Wildfire
by alexaday
Summary: What if Brenda had shown up at the Bel Age and Kelly had been the one to flake? Will Brenda and Dylan be able to resume their relationship and wildfire romance after all that has gone on between them? Tweaked Version of Season 3.
1. She Climbed Out the Bedroom Window

Ever since I started watching Beverly Hills, 90210, I have adored Brenda and Dylan. It practically broke my heart that Dylan chose Kelly over Brenda. So, here's my take on what should have happened. Thank-you all for reading! This is my first story (Don't worry; I'll update it as much as I can. Yay for summer break!) and I got the inspiration for it after a BH90210 marathon and after reading endless Brenda/Dylan FanFiction stories (which are super awesome, by the way). I really hope you enjoy it and be sure to review!

**Disclaimer: I do not own Beverly Hills, 90210 or any of its characters.**

She wandered down a dark corridor, almost aimlessly. She didn't know why she was so nervous—after all, this wasn't the first time she'd met Jack McKay. She could remember in vivid detail that first night, the first night Dylan had kissed her, the night when she first caught a glimpse of Jack. She could recall how anger had seemed to sweep through Dylan, how he was almost unrecognizable. All that seemed so far away, though. That was a time when their passion was just igniting. That was a time when Kelly didn't fit into the picture at all.

Sometimes she wished that Paris had been just a dream.

She opened the door to a dimly-lit bathroom, and stopped in front of the mirror. She examined her reflection carefully. Her dress clung to her so tightly that she could hardly breathe. She knew Dylan liked this one, and she relished in the fact that Kelly would probably be, for the most part, ignored. That was what made this whole night worth it—though bribing Brandon to cover for her for the evening would probably prove costly.

She removed red lipstick out of her satin clutch. She applied it, satisfied with what she saw in the mirror. She turned away, heart pounding, and opened the door. The unmistakable sound of clacking heels against the bathroom tile, however, caused her to stop dead in her tracks. "Kelly," She muttered under her breath. She could hardly wait to see the get-up she had put together—but she couldn't bring herself to turn around. She held her tongue and closed the door, moving swiftly towards the lobby.

Her heart still pounded and suddenly it became very easy to understand why Dylan threw a potted plant on the pavement so many years ago. She felt like sobbing. She felt like an idiot for sneaking out of the window, only to come here, to a place that held so many memories, both good and bad. She felt sick, and resolved that if she couldn't find Dylan within the next five minutes, she would just take a taxi home. After all, Kelly had already won.

She was so lost in thought that she had hardly noticed him standing with his hands folded in front of him, watching her slyly. "Excusez-moi, Madamoiselle," he had caught her slender hand in his. "Tu me trouve." He raised a coy eyebrow.

Brenda attempted to remain somber, but she couldn't help but smile. He pulled her into his arms, swinging her around. "I'm glad you came, Bren," He whispered in her ear. "It wouldn't be the same without you."

She thought about making a wry quip about Kelly, but that would've ruined the moment. She was still in his embrace for a comfortable moment. "I'm glad that I came too. Though I probably owe my first-born to Brandon now."

"Don't be silly, Bren," Dylan smiled whole-heartedly. "I'm sure B accepts cash." His eyes lingered on Brenda, and they both were transported back to a moment in time, a moment eternally lodged in the Bel Age Hotel itself.

"Well, I've arrived," Kelly's voice sliced through the moment like a chainsaw. Dylan could see the pain suddenly resurface in Brenda's eyes and suddenly guilt dragged him to an emotional trench he had often visited before. "Nice to see Brandon came through for you, Brenda."

"He's a miracle worker, what can I say?" Brenda feigned a smile. Dylan had to admire what a good actress she was at times like this. He reached for Brenda's hand on something of a whim.

Kelly seemed rather indifferent to the movement and walked to Dylan's side, linking her arm through his. "I'm really happy for your dad, Dylan. This is wonderful news."

Dylan nodded, but he wasn't quite sure he agreed. He looked to Brenda, who gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. "It's a new beginning—for both him and you."

"Not just him and me, Bren—for all of us." He smiled, and it was only for Brenda. He kissed her cheek, sliding his arm around her waist. "I have a feeling that the night has something interesting in store."

Kelly, not very much wanting to be ignored, chimed in. "It's going to be a night to remember. That's for sure." She giggled. Brenda cringed at Kelly's smugness, a shiver running up her spine. Dylan wrapped his arm tighter around her waist.

They reached the dining room and Kelly, with a look of surprise and ecstasy, let go of Dylan's arm. Her eyes widened and Dylan, who hadn't been paying much attention, saw that she was running up to a boy who he didn't immediately recognize. "Jake," He said blankly. Brenda sighed, growing limp in Dylan's grasp.

She watched as Jake and Kelly chatted happily, how Kelly's eyes danced in sheer excitement. Kelly ran to Brenda and Dylan, holding Jake's hand as if they were something of an item.

"Do you mind if I rain check, Dylan?" Her eyelashes fluttered as Jake wrapped his arms around her waist.

"Rain check?" Dylan repeated, somewhat mystified.

"Well, three's really a crowd, don't you think? I mean, Bren is here and that's all you need." She sounded almost mean, and Brenda had to stifle her laughter. "I'll call you later."

"How about I have my people call your people, Kel?" He scoffed, turning back to Brenda with a start. Kelly had shrugged, smiled, and left with Jake in tow. Something about this episode had seemed surreal.

Dylan simply stared for a few long moments. "What do you know?" He slid his free hand in his pocket, his chin sloping downward. "Superficial as ever."

Brenda looked at him, the same pain still in his eyes. "I'm going to go talk to her, Dylan," Brenda began to walk away, letting go of his grasp entirely.

"Wait-," Dylan had said softly. "Wait. If she wants to go, let her go. If she can't handle that I want you to be here tonight, let her go. I just want you here tonight, Bren."

Brenda's heart had skipped a beat. "How can you be so sure?"

"You're Brenda Walsh. You're the girl who is always there for me, even when everyone else walks away. You're Brandon's sister. You're sweet and beautiful, and, you know what, it took me a long time to realize what the hell I was losing. Another thing, Bren: For a pretty girl, you ask way too many questions," He had thrown her a lopsided grin, and pulled her towards him. He kissed her. Her taste was familiar, yet it still drove him wild.

Contentment rushed through Brenda like a wildfire. Suddenly, the battle didn't seem quite so lost.


	2. Baked Alaska and Starry Skies

I've updated it pretty quickly because I'm so excited about the story! Thank-you for the reviews! :)

**Disclaimer: Once again, I do not own Beverly Hills, 90210 or any of its characters! (P.S. Don't Sue Me)**

The lighting of the dining room left Brenda almost sleepy. She rested her head on her hand, thinking over the night thus far. Jack was watching her now, but she didn't want to let on that she could sense his eyes on her. She wondered what he was thinking. Perhaps it was the same thing she was: being left alone was an uncomfortable experience.

Christine had left to take a phone call and Dylan had gone to the bathroom momentarily. He had promised to be back in a few minutes, but any amount of time alone with Jack unnerved her. She couldn't figure out what to say to him. She had grown to hate him on behalf of Dylan.

"I'm very happy that you accepted Dylan's invitation tonight, Brenda," He had shattered the silence and Brenda had finally dared to make eye contact. "You're very special to him. You must know that."

"He's very special to me," Brenda had that look on her face that she often did when she felt particularly guarded. Her lips were partially parted. "He always will be."

"That's what I figure," Jack smirked somewhat, turning his head to the side, in a Dylan-esque pose. "When he talks about you, he always seems like a different kid. He doesn't ever talk about anyone the way he talks about you."

"I'm sure he talks about Kelly in the same way," Brenda couldn't help but say the words aloud.

"She was a fling," Jack chuckled. "She was an escape for him. I don't know much about all of this, Brenda, but he wrote me a long letter about it. He didn't want to come in between you and your father. It was too complicated, and Kelly was just there. I hope you don't mind me telling you all this, but I think you need to know that it isn't because he doesn't love you—because he does."

Brenda paused. Her hands were clasped and her elbows rested on the table. "I really hate that you're getting my hopes up." Brenda smiled, biting her lip out of anxiety.

"Sweetheart, you might as well get your hopes up. Do you want my advice?" Jack furrowed his eyebrows in concern.

"Desperately," Brenda had warmed to him, and she felt so happy, so excited, even though her stomach was in knots.

"Don't worry about Kelly. She's not here tonight, is she?" Jack posed the question, placing his hands on the table and leaning forward. "You're here for Dylan tonight, even though I'm sure your dad isn't too pleased."

"Actually, my dad doesn't know I'm here," Brenda looked down at her lap. "I had to come tonight. He was dead set against it. I went to my brother and begged and pleaded for him to tell my parents I had gone to sleep early. He agreed, and I called a taxi. I climbed out the window, and here I am."

"Here you are," Dylan reentered the scene briskly and leant down to kiss her cheek. He gazed at her for a moment, while taking his seat again. "I'm sure Jimbo would have my head for it, though."

"What he doesn't know won't hurt him, will it?" Brenda grinned as Dylan reached under the table for her hand. "It's not the first time I've had to escape from his clutches."

"That's for sure," Dylan had glanced to Brenda, smiling crookedly. "All of those days at the Beach Club, our trip to Baja, our _hours_ at the lookout."

Brenda thoughtfully raised her glass to her lips. She took a sip of her sparkling water, a smile hiding in her eyes. "I haven't been back to the lookout for months," Brenda's eyes were alight with the same anticipation that had entered her heart during her conversation with Jack. Dylan leaned in to her, pecking her on the lips.

"I told you that the night had some interesting things in store, did I not?" Dylan raised his eyebrows and then turned his attention to Christine, who sat down beside Jack once again.

"Who was that, sweets?" Jack presented his famous, cocky grin. His white teeth glistened, even though the light seemed to only grow dimmer.

"Oh, just my mother. I'm certain she's better at tracking down people than I am," Christine winked and smiled.

"I think our mothers must have that in common," Brenda laughed, thinking about what her mother was doing at that very moment. She glanced at the watch she wore on her left wrist. It was eight thirty. She would probably be sitting on the couch, reflecting on the blowout that had gone on between Brenda and Jim. She had been particularly hostile to him—something she hadn't been since her return from Paris. She didn't know how she had become so angry, but at the same time, it was all too clear. He was a barrier between her and Dylan, between her and true happiness and he would only continue to be.

"How late is B on duty tonight, Bren?" Dylan's voice lured her out of her head. "I was thinking we could shine on the nightcaps and go somewhere to chat."

"By all means, kids," Jack grinned and folded his arms. "It seems like you have some major catching up to do."

"Oh, to be young and in love," Christine looked to Brenda, who blushed. "It's so wonderful."

Brenda didn't say anything, and didn't dare glance to Dylan out of embarrassment. He, however, seemed pleased at Christine's comment.

Jack looked in the distance momentarily. "Was that Kelly I saw earlier leaving with some other guy?"

"Yes," Brenda and Dylan said it at the same time, and Dylan began to laugh. "She was going to join us, but decided that three was a 'crowd'. She saw her old boyfriend in the lobby and decided she would go have dinner with him."

"Well, her loss," Jack looked coyly to Brenda.

"I'm a big believer that everything happens for a reason," Dylan took Brenda's hand and brought it up to his lips, kissing it. "Sometimes that reason isn't very clear. Tonight, however, I would be an idiot to not see that it's practically translucent."

A waiter arrived at the table, yielding a flaming plate. Brenda nearly yelped and Dylan, again, laughed, pulling her chair closer to his, taking her into his arms.

"Baked Alaska—after all, this is a celebration, is it not?" Jack clapped as the waiter set the plate on the table. "I'd like to propose a toast, everyone. A toast to new beginnings—a toast to Christine and I, and a toast to my son, Dylan, and to lovely Brenda," He took his wine glass and lifted it. Brenda took her glass, prompting Dylan to do the same. Their glasses clinked. "May this night prove to be a joyous occasion."

"It already has," Dylan glanced to his father and then to Brenda, sipping his root beer and recalling a night that seemed not too far gone when the root beer would have been whisky and Brenda would have been Kelly.

Tonight he had made his choice. He was pleased with it—he almost couldn't keep it quiet. He wanted to announce it to everyone. He couldn't believe he had almost made a very different decision based upon such a shoddy premise.

The table was silent for a few minutes as they ate. Dylan stole glances at Brenda, and she had to stop herself from giggling out loud. It was almost as if the old Dylan had returned.

The waiter reappeared at the table. "Miss. Walsh?" He inquired curtly.

"That's me," Brenda's heart began to race.

"Phone call for you at the front desk," He smiled and then disappeared behind swinging doors. Dylan, still grasping her hand, rose to his feet. Brenda was almost shaking as they walked together, past the doors of the dining room and into the lobby of the hotel.

"It's going to be alright, Bren," He nuzzled her neck with his lips.

"You don't know that," She said, not looking directly at him.

Dylan laced his fingers with hers, "I do."

"Even if this is my father telling me that he and my mother are disowning me?" Brenda laughed bitterly.

"You can always move in with me," Dylan grazed her shoulder.

"What a good idea, Dylan! Why don't we invite Kelly to join us and we could be a happy threesome?" Brenda couldn't even fathom what voice would be on the other line—and if she could, she certainly didn't want to think about it.

"Look, Bren, don't do this," He pulled her back, until she stood still, fidgeting with her hands. "Isn't it painfully obvious that I'm on your side?"

"I don't know, Dylan. I don't know what to think. I don't know if this whole night changes things or if I'm just going to be disappointed again," Brenda finally looked him in the eye. She was holding back tears.

"Brenda," He put his hands on her shoulders. "Don't you realize that Kelly's out of the picture? She left—she's gone."

"Are you telling me that if Kelly knocked on your door tomorrow and apologized for tonight you wouldn't reconsider?" Brenda balled her hands into fists.

Dylan sighed, turning his head to the side before looking back to Brenda."I'm telling you that if Kelly came back this instant I'd tell her the truth."

"Oh, and what's that?" Brenda's voice was breaking.

"I've already made my decision," Dylan slid his arms to her waist, pulling her closer. "I love you, Bren. That hasn't changed. This all might be difficult, but the fact that you're the girl I want is all that matters."

Dylan leaned in to kiss her. His lips were touching hers before she could say another word. The voice of a hotel receptionist couldn't even rouse them out of the moment. "Miss Walsh? I have the caller for you still on the line."

Brenda looked at Dylan once again before pulling away. He followed her to the desk, leaning against it as she put the receiver to her ear. She took a deep breath. "Hello?"

"Brenda, it's me," Brandon's voice immediately soothed her.

"Brandon! You scared the hell out of me." Brenda glanced to Dylan. "What's going on?"

"You know how you said Kelly was going to be with you guys tonight?" Brandon didn't seem alarmed or even urgent, but, rather, curious.

"Yeah, Bran. She ditched us," Brenda sighed, eying the prying hotel receptionist, who seemed to be hanging on her every word. "What about her?"

"Listen, she came by tonight. She was with some guy—the guy that was at Mel and Jackie's wedding. I think his name is Luke or Drake—maybe one of those newfangled-cool-guy-nicknames like Rake?"

"Kelly came to the house?" Brenda repeated incredulously.

"She gave me a letter to give to you. She wanted to say 'hi' to mom and dad, but I told her they were already in bed," Brandon sighed. "Bren, you better watch out for her. I have a feeling that she isn't done with whatever she's doing."

"Brandon, Kelly doesn't threaten me." Brenda glanced in the mirror behind the reception desk. She was amazed that her lipstick had remained bright red. She fixed her disheveled hair.

"When are you gonna be home?" Brandon's voice was getting quieter.

"No later than 12:30, okay?" She pursed her lips.

"I'll have the window open," Brandon said, defeated.

"Thanks for everything, Bran. I owe you big time." She played with her clutch bag, nervously smiling to herself.

"You can bet I'll never stop reminding you of that," Brandon laughed weakly.

"See you later, Brandon." She was about to hang up, when Brandon interjected.

"Wait a sec, Brenda. Promise me you'll be careful. I don't know what's going through Kelly's head."

"I promise," She looked at Dylan, who winked at her. She handed the receiver to the nosy receptionist, and looked off into the distance.

"Have I ever told you that I really love that dress?" Dylan put his hand in her hair, stroking her cheek with his thumb.

"Maybe a few times," Brenda said coyly, moving away from the desk and back towards the dining room.

"What do you say we take a cruise to the lookout tonight?" He grinned sheepishly. "Just you and me, Bren. It might be fun."

"What are we going to do at the lookout for three hours, Dylan?" She raised one eyebrow.

"Why don't you tell me?" Dylan wrapped his arms around her waist, kissing her again, feeling an incredible rush pulsate through his body.

"Well, kids, it's been fun," Jack tapped Dylan on the shoulder. Dylan shrugged his touch off and playfully spun Brenda around. "Christine and I are going to return to our room. I expect that you two have plans for the rest of the evening?"

"We do at that," Brenda grinned. Dylan pressed his nose against her cheek.

"Wonderful meeting you, Brenda," She smiled and shook Brenda's hand. "I wish you two all the happiness in the world." She walked away, to the hallway with the elevator.

Jack lingered for a moment, and, with a final glance towards Brenda, had followed Christine.

Dylan had taken Brenda's hand immediately, and led her out to the parking lot. The night air was warm and somehow clean. When they reached Dylan's Speedster, he pulled her into him, kissing her for the first time without interruption. Brenda, once they came up for air, glanced up to the sky. Maybe it was her imagination, but the sky was curiously bright and promising—so bright that she thought perhaps stars really were portals to the heavens.


	3. The World Was on Fire

I've been having problems with uploading new stuff, and it's irritating me to no end! But I think I've managed to post the latest installment. I thought it was time for a flashback (my specialty). My favorite scenes in the show were shot on their "lookout" over the L.A. skyline, so I had to put it in this story! Please review!

**Disclaimer: I do not own Beverly Hills, 90210 or any of its characters.**

"_What a wicked thing to say, you never felt this way. What a wicked thing to do, to make me dream of you_-," As Dylan's Speedster had made its way up the winding road, the wind had blown Brenda's hair in every which way. She laughed into the night air, glancing at Dylan, and then back at the L.A. skyline. "_Oh, I don't wanna fall in love—with you." _

"Brenda," Dylan had said, almost inaudibly, his hand still on hers. "Sometimes I can't get over how beautiful you are."

Brenda had grinned. "If you're trying to flatter me, I assure you that it indeed will get you everywhere, Mr. McKay."

"Everywhere?" He had thrown her a mischievous grin to match her own.

"So to speak," She had winked, leaning over the gears to kiss him on the cheek.

"I am a lucky, lucky man," He looked almost serious for a moment, but then his visage broke, revealing something of a smile. He shrugged, "Or so to speak." Brenda gave him a playful jab in the ribs, prompting Dylan to practically pull her into him. Dylan was still grinning as Brenda turned away, looking again to the city lights, which she felt so comfortably far away from. Even in her dreams, a night like this couldn't have turned out any better. She allowed her mind to wander, wander back to its ill-fated beginnings, to a time when this was the last place she could imagine being.

She had known from the second she had replaced the receiver in the kitchen that Jim had been listening. If she had been in a more jovial mood, the outcome of his demands might have been different. Brenda, however, was as much of a force to be reckoned with as Jim was that night—if she wasn't more of one. He had entered the kitchen scowling. Brenda hadn't flinched. She could tell that Brandon hadn't felt so brave and had made some excuse to go to his room.

_ "It was Dylan, I take it?" Jim had placed himself at an uncomfortably close proximity. _

_ "Why are you asking the question if you already know?" Brenda hadn't budged. _

_ "You are not to go out and fraternize with that con-artist Jack McKay. Is that understood?" Jim's eyes had been stern, filled with a deep loathing. _

_ "I never ask for much of anything, dad," Brenda's voice had remained calm. "I need to see him tonight. We won't be alone. Kelly-," She felt nauseous whenever that name had to come up in conversation, "Kelly will be there tonight." _

_ "It's Jackie Taylor's choice to allow her daughter to put herself in jeopardy," Jim's voice was tense and increasing in volume. "No daughter of Jim Walsh will be caught dead with that McKay menace—father or son." _

_ "Would you stop referring to yourself in the third-person? It's so 1990." Brenda had retorted sarcastically. She gave him a scalding glare and walked directly to the refrigerator. She took out a soda and placed it on the counter. She stared at it for a minute, not daring to look up to her father._

_ "I don't appreciate that tone, nor do I appreciate your treatment of this situation, Brenda," Jim had folded his arms. His voice was beginning to reach a volume that it only did when he was discussing matters pertaining to Dylan. _

_ "No. I'm sure you don't, dad," She opened the soda with a violent jerk._

_ "Young lady, I won't have this attitude. Is it understood about tonight?" Jim's tone roused Cindy from the book she was reading on the couch. Jim's beady eyes were infiltrated with rage._

_ "Is what understood?" Brenda was screaming, now at the point of tears, "That your sole goal in life is making me miserable? You keep me away from Dylan every single damn chance you get! You turn on him, forbid me to see him, send me to Paris when you catch me with him! You got what you want. You destroyed our relationship. So, be happy, dad. He loves Kelly and is just waiting for the right time to tell me he chose her. I just want to see him tonight, try to get him to change his mind. I love him, damn it! You keep separating me from him and I hate you for it!" _

_ "I'm trying to protect you, Brenda! That's all I'm trying to do. How dare you accuse me of making you miserable? All I've ever done is sacrifice for you and your brother," Jim seemed astonished at his daughter's sudden outburst. He was angry, but at the same time, stupefied. _

_ "No, you've sacrificed for Brandon," She said coolly. "I am the one who always has to take whatever you throw at me, like a beat-up punching bag."_

_ Jim didn't seem to have a response for that. _

_ She walked away, running up the stairs. "Brenda!" Jim had called after her. "Brenda, come back here right now!" _

_ She heard her mother's voice in the distance. "Let her go, Jim. Just let her be for right now." Brenda had sobbed, trying to choke back tears. _

_ She'd opened her door, and there had been Brandon. She had begun to cry quickly and without warning. He had hugged her, and after the crying had stopped, words flew out of her mouth at 50 miles an hour._

_ It wasn't long before the cab had been on its way and she had been dressed in her tight-fitting black dress, ready to leap out the window at moment's notice. _

_ "D doesn't deserve you," Brandon had said it as he rummaged through his box of camp equipment. He had pulled out hiking boots and had thrown them to the side carelessly. "I can't believe I'm helping you out with this."_

_ "I love him, Bran," She had sat with her legs to the side, hiding behind his bed in case Cindy had decided to come in unexpectedly. "I love him more than anything. Kelly just wants someone—she wanted anyone, so she went for Dylan—for my boyfriend. Sometimes I just want to shake her." _

_ "It was a shitty thing for her to do, Bren. I just want you to think about the fact that Dylan made the decision to cheat too. He ran to her when things between you two weren't working out." Brenda's eyes were abruptly saddened._

_ "I know, Brandon. I know that he made that decision," She had looked away. "That doesn't change the fact that I'm in love with him."_

_ "I know it doesn't," Brandon had given her a sympathetic look, and then had returned to searching through the box. "I just want you to realize that Dylan is his own man. He makes his own decisions. He's made that clear to me on more than one occasion." _

_ "Brandon," Brenda had said it one more time. "I love him. He's a bastard, but I certainly won't let Kelly get him without a fight."_

_ "You sure about this, Bren?" Brandon had paused for a moment._

_ "Entirely," Brenda had given him a look that had convinced him in a way that she knew he wished it didn't. _

_ He removed a portable ladder from the box, holding a portion of it for Brenda to take. "Then I guess it's time to help you blow this popsicle joint, huh?" _

_ Brenda had smiled, genuinely cheerful. "You're amazing, Brandon. You really are."_

_ "Don't forget wise, valiant, and irresistible to the fairer sex," He had tilted his head upward in jest. _

_ "How could I ever?" Brenda had looked after him for a moment, and then had glanced in the mirror. Her bare legs looked long and lean, and her skin was particularly pale. Nope, she'd resolved, she would never be a California girl—never would she be blonde and tan or be named Kelly. She decided that maybe that wasn't the worst thing in the world. Perhaps it was one of the things working to her advantage._

_ "Your chariot awaits, my lady," He had held the base of the ladder and helped her out onto the ledge. Grasping his hand, she had kissed him on the forehead._

_ "Thank-you, Bran," She had said in a whisper. _

_ "No prob, Bren," He had smiled as he had watched her descend, and finally reach the ground. She had sprinted to the cab as Brandon had reeled in his ladder. He watched until the cab carrying his anxious sister had vanished into the night—or at least she imagined he would. _

_ "World was on fire and no one could see it but you-," _She had looked back to the radio, almost startled by her sudden leap back to reality. Dylan had turned into the lookout, and the car had halted after idling. _"Strange what desire makes foolish people do." _He looked to Brenda, who still had a faraway look within her gaze.

"What now?" He had brought her hand again to his lips. "You decide. It's your night."

Brenda had hesitated for a moment, studying the L.A. lights once again. "You know, I never thought we'd end up here tonight."

"Is that a good or bad thing, Bren?" He leaned towards her, whilst she shot him a long, come-hither gaze.

She had kissed him hungrily, and he had grasped her hips, pulling her towards him.

"A good thing," She had whispered between breaths. Dylan had pulled her closer in response, and the two, for a while, had been completely wrapped up in one another.

At one point, when they had stopped to examine the world around them, Dylan had spoken. "Bren, are you going to tell B about tonight?"

"What do you mean?" Brenda had practically giggled, but had held it back. She was trying her best to _not_ imitate Kelly.

"I mean, are you going to tell him that we're—seeing each other?" Dylan still had her close to him, eyeing her lips with a certain desire.

"Are we?" She had posed the question seriously.

Dylan smiled furtively, "Didn't I tell you? Even though this ultimatum thing has been stupid from the get-go, I choose you, Bren."

"I've been waiting to hear those words for so long." Brenda had momentarily seemed saddened. A veil of grief descended upon her.

"Bren," He had lifted her chin with his hand. "Kelly might have been the easiest choice, but you were always the right choice."

"Then, you're not choosing me because Kelly left tonight?" Brenda had still gazed at him in that dramatic way of hers.

Dylan had paused, had looked away and then had returned her gaze once again. "No. The reason I choose you is because she's not you, Bren—she'll never be you. And you're the only girl I love. That's been the case for a long, long time."

"How do you always say all the right things, Dylan?"" she had gazed at him in amazement.

Dylan had stared at her lips. "Because I always mean what I say. You know that." He had smiled slightly. Brenda had leaned on his chest.

"I'm going to make you a promise, Dylan." Brenda had said gently.

"And what's that, little lady?" Dylan had feigned a deep voice, whilst still holding onto her waist.

"No more talking about Kelly on my part. All that hostility; it's over. She was my best friend. It shouldn't be like this." Brenda brought herself to look Dylan in the eye again.

"Just don't force anything, Bren. That's all I have to say." Dylan ran his hands through her hair. Brenda simply stared. "What do you think about just focusing on you and I for a while?"

"I say that sounds like a plan." Brenda crawled into Dylan's lap. Their lips met, more ardently than the first time. As the final chorus to the song absently played once again, they became lost in the heat of the moment.


	4. Hanging in the Stars

This chapter mainly deals with brewing discontent between Kelly and Brenda. In the show, Kelly never faced repercussions for betraying her friendship with Brenda by being with Dylan. I think if Dylan had ultimately chosen Brenda, that would have been different. In this alternate storyline, it's Kelly that has to deal with Dylan's choice and she also has to deal with the fact that she betrayed her best friend - that makes for some conflict for Kelly.

Thanks for reading and please review.

**Disclaimer: I don't own Beverly Hills, 90210 or any of its characters.**

They had made their way to Beverly Hills and Casa Walsh in the incredible darkness of midnight in suburban L.A. There was something very magical about riding in that desolate night illuminated only by the moon, select stars, and the headlights of Dylan's car upon the black asphalt in front of them.

"Tomorrow night I'm all yours," Dylan had remarked after a time span of warm and comfortable silence. "Before you even _think_ about declining, please imagine me, alone, watching a movie in my living room on a Friday night."

"Not your style," Brenda had scoffed, grinning, her eyes on the road.

"Also consider I'm allowing you, Brenda Walsh, one of California's most notoriously bad drivers, to drive my precious, precious car," Dylan was laughing more genuinely than he had in a while. The mood in that car was both contagious and intoxicating.

"You would do well to not forget that I am still driving, Dylan," Brenda was normally very nervous while driving, but tonight she was incredibly mellow. Again, the mood in the car was mostly what did the trick.

"You would do well to remember that I will be compensated for anything you do to this car," Dylan leaned over and kissed her shoulder, and then her neck. "I don't mean monetarily either."

Brenda glanced at Dylan, her eyebrow cocked. "You sick cretin."

"Hey, don't pretend like you won't enjoy it," Dylan grinned in that famously mischievous way of his. Brenda could have melted. "Turn signal." Dylan had said, breathless from laughing.

"What are you, my driving instructor?" Brenda had checked oncoming traffic before turning onto her street. She drove slowly down the street, coming to a complete stop at a shady curb.

"I'm whatever you want me to be, Bren," He unfastened her seat belt and leaned across the dash. He kissed her, sliding his palm slyly over her thigh to reach the ignition. He pulled out the keys, sliding his hand against her leg. The keys faintly jingled as he reached to lift her up. He pulled her into his arms, opened the door, and hesitated, holding her closely for awhile.

He finally set her down and gazed into her eyes. He was somber for the first time in the duration of the evening. "I'm sorry for running away for so long, Bren," He still held her, even as she stood speechless.

"Are you back, Dylan? Is this you?" Brenda searched his eyes for the truth.

"It is me—I'm back," Dylan kissed her on the forehead. "God, I must sound insane."

"You're making perfect sense to me," Brenda whispered, tears rolling down her cheeks. "I missed you like crazy."

"I missed you too," He embraced her, wanting to absorb every inch of her. "We have a lot of things to talk about, Brenda. I don't expect you to take me back with no questions. I want to beg and plead and grovel. I want you to tell me how you feel about all of this. I want to work it out."

"Dylan," Brenda said weakly.

"No objections," He put his hands on both of her shoulders firmly. "I owe you this. Do you accept my invitation?"

"Of course," Brenda replied without a second's hesitation. "Of course I do."

"I'll ask B to drop you off." He began to walk away, her hand still in his. "Night, Bren."

Dylan opened the door whilst Brenda stood with her hips in her hands. "Dylan?" She said coyly.

He looked up, motioning to his pierced ear to signify that he was listening.

"You dare ask Brandon to drive me to your house when I am such a fabulous driver myself?" Brenda dramatically placed her hand on her chest. "Why, I'm insulted."

"Bren?" Dylan walked back to her smoothly. "Part of dating you means wanting you alive." He pecked her on the lips and waited for a moment. "I love you."

"I love you too." She smiled, though as he walked away she pretended to pout.

Dylan watched as Brenda turned on her heel, walking quietly into her lawn, where the ladder awaited her presence. She didn't look back until she reached her brother, who had been good-naturedly grinning as she stepped back into the room. Dylan's Porsche was still parked, and he idled there for another minute. When he finally started the car, Brenda dared to exhale.

"So, it really did happen," She watched the car disappear beyond the bend. Brandon looked out the window too, throwing his arm around Brenda's shoulder.

"Tonight?" Brandon was almost afraid to ask.

"Yes," Brenda couldn't refrain from smiling. It was almost a physical impossibility. She threw off her stilettos, entirely joyous. That bliss had, however, ended immediately when she had seen the note in Brandon's hand. She was suddenly feeling completely off balance. "Yes, tonight."

Brandon took a seat on Brenda's bed. As her face fell, Brandon glanced to the note apprehensively. "Bren, I'm happy for you and Dylan. I really am. Please don't get me wrong. I just wish she was—as understanding."

"Kelly?" Brenda had inquired sourly. The color was draining from her face. "Why in the hell would Kelly ever be understanding of anything that involves me being happy with Dylan?" She reminded herself to be quiet. Still, she felt like screaming.

"She was drunk when she came here tonight," Brandon was lying down on Brenda's bed now, staring at the ceiling. "Her friend was practically groping her in front of me."

"Why do you sound surprised, Brandon?" Brenda was removing her earrings and examining her reflection in the mirror, trying to comprehend what Dylan saw in her that he didn't see in Kelly. She felt petty and small.

"Because it isn't Kelly," Brandon sighed. "This isn't the girl who came over all the time sophomore year just to get a home-cooked meal, our loveable Kelly, the girl who asked me out to the Spring Fling. This is a different Kelly."

Brenda had obviously realized Brandon's point. She was suddenly very sad that the old Dylan had returned, but the old Kelly seemed permanently lost.

"I'm afraid of what she has the potential to do. She could hurt someone—she could hurt you and Dylan. Maybe even herself. Who knows what she has in mind?" Brandon's eyes were wide as he rose up in bed, facing Brenda once again.

"What did she say, Bran?" Brenda asked softly.

"Sure you want to know?" Once he received a nod from Brenda, he held it up, bracing himself for her reaction. "Brenda—Didn't think you'd show up tonight, but, just in case, I had a back-up plan set up. I don't think you understand this situation. Everything that's happened this year has happened for a reason - everything this summer happened for a reason. I think it's time we had a chat, Bren. Don't you? You know the number." Brandon looked up. Tears were welling in his sister's eyes.

"I don't understand this." She said in the midst of her sobs.

She sat at the foot of the bed. They sat there for a while, silently, Brandon's hand on her shoulder.

"Bren, I think there's something you should know - about Dylan and Kelly," Brandon had kept it in for months, never daring to tell his sister.

"Brandon, to be perfectly honest, I don't think I can handle more bad news," Brenda groaned. The truth that she hadn't been able to admit to herself for all these months was gnawing in her gut.

"I know," Brandon said, softly.

Brenda, weighed down by recent events, laid down on her bed. Brandon quietly got up and headed towards the door, turning the light off on his way out. "Goodnight, Bren."

"Goodnight," Her voice quaked. For the time being, she would have to forget Brandon's words altogether.


	5. Atonement

I watched "The Green Room" last night because it always makes me feel good to watch those original episodes. I have always liked Dylan's relationship with Brandon. Brandon was really protective in the beginning and so it really surprised me that Brandon wasn't that bothered that his best friend cheated on his sister and then ditched her. So, I decided there should be a conversation about it. No Kelly drama yet; I saved that for next chapter! (Spoiler Alert: Kelly's not the only one who left a voicemail that night)

**Disclaimer: I don't own Beverly Hills, 90210 or its characters (that's why I'm writing on here, people) **

They had piled into the car that morning limply. Collectively, they hadn't gotten more than four hours of sleep. Brandon had counseled Brenda through her tears and Brenda had, in turn, stared at the ceiling, thinking about how her night of a lifetime had shattered into a million little pieces so simply and so finally. They hadn't spoken at breakfast. Jim had silently stared at his plate, whilst Brenda had shifted the plate's contents around until Cindy had finally taken up the plate and thrown it into the sink.

Yes, it had been a rough night at Casa Walsh.

There had been no questions asked about the phone call from Kelly. There were no words that could be said. Jim had taken it as a misplaced desire for reconciliation, but Cindy had her suspicions about its origins. Still, silence had reigned supreme. Jim had been the first to exit. He had trudged outside with a thermos of coffee in his hand, saying something under his breath about traffic being insane. Brandon and Brenda had muttered their good-byes quietly and had received no response from Cindy, who had, following the plate incident, seemed rather irate.

As the sights of Beverly Hills flew around them and transformed into brilliant colors, the two had not made much of an effort to have a conversation. Although it would have probably been a lot easier to maintain the quiet, Brenda had eventually broken their bout of exhausted silence in frustration. "Funny how something so great can turn into such a nightmare in a matter of 30 seconds."

Brandon, who felt almost as though he had a hangover, didn't seem to have any reaction to her statement. "This is all I'm going to say, Bren. You can't let Kelly get to you. Something's up with her and you know it."

"It's hard to not let her get to me," Brenda sighed, as Brandon pulled into the parking lot of West Beverly. "What bothers me the most is that whatever she's doing isn't about Dylan anymore."

"I doubt it's ever been just about Dylan," Brandon put his sunglasses on in a quick, decided movement.

Brenda glanced from car to car, scanning the lot for Kelly's beamer. She sighed, "I can't believe this. I told Dylan last night the hostility was over."

"It can be-," Brandon patted Brenda on the shoulder. "I know it's going to be tempting to play her game, Bren, but letting her play alone is a sweeter victory."

Brenda smiled for the first time in that entire God-forsaken morning. "Why do you always have to be so good, Bran? Hasn't Beverly Hills rubbed off on you at all?"

"I might be driving a nicer car, but I'm always a boring, moral-centric Midwestern boy in here," Brandon tapped his chest, smiling at his sister. His mood significantly improved as they pulled into a parking space. "Can you believe that this is the first time we've found a parking space all week?" He threw his keys into his pocket.

"I can," Dylan's bike instantaneously appeared in the parking space next to them. His eyes were on Brenda as he slid his helmet off and stepped off, coming face to face with Brandon.

"It's been awhile, B," Dylan finally tore his eyes off Brenda to glance in Brandon's direction. Brandon, suddenly entirely reserved, had put his arm around his sister. "At least, it's been a while since I've had to apologize to both of you Walsh people over a time period of two days," Dylan grinned, which elicited a smile from Brenda.

"What are you apologizing to me for?" Brandon shifted his weight from foot to foot.

"For not living up to my promise, man," Dylan shrugged, stealing a quick glance at Brenda, who was still smiling rather blindly.

The bell rang in the distance. Brenda shrugged off Brandon's hold on her and nervously pulled her satchel further up her shoulder. "Well, I'm off, gentlemen. I shouldn't be late to English Lit again."

"I know I mentioned Brandon dropping you off, but I'll be here after school, Bren," He reached out for her hand, "I thought maybe we could take a ride to the beach—if you're okay with it, that is, B." He raised his eyebrows, as Brenda looked at her brother.

"Yeah, sure, it's fine," Brandon turned his back and started to walk. "As long as I don't have to hold that ladder out the window again. It damaged my pitching arm." Brandon pretended to wince.

"Therefore, diminishing your famous right hook," Brenda rolled her eyes.

Dylan pulled Brenda into him, pecking her on the lips. "See you soon?"

"Only if I survive reciting Lord Byron in first period," Brenda smiled, her eyes dancing. "You'd think I'd be more at ease, seeing as I know his biggest aficionado."

"Aficionado and soul brother: Mad, bad-," Dylan began teasingly.

"And dangerous to know," Brenda kissed him again, "A for Delivery, but C for Originality, McKay."

"Do you and Brandon discuss everything?" Dylan rolled his eyes to the sky in jest. "You're killing my mystery—killing it."

"Hardly. Who are you again?" She pushed him lightly with her hand and then rushed off to class.

"What, you don't remember me from last night?" Dylan grinned again, waiting through the duration of Brenda's long, probing stare and then running off to catch Brandon.

"Finally come to your senses?" Brandon was already halfway up the drive as Dylan neared his vicinity.

"In essence, yes," Dylan held his books loosely. Talking to Brandon about resuming his relationship with his sister was, surprisingly, pretty uncomfortable. He couldn't say he didn't expect this process to be difficult, though. "Like I said to Bren, Kelly was an easy choice—the right choice isn't usually easy, though."

"I told you once that I didn't want you to hurt my sister. You didn't - right away." Brandon was suddenly serious. "You know, you're a good guy, but you sure haven't been acting like it lately."

"I know, B. I know I messed it all up. I did make a promise to you. Maybe it was more a promise to myself. All I know is that when I fell in love with your sister, something changed. I didn't want to hurt her. I didn't," His chest was tight with emotion. "I hurt her. I hurt her badly. In the process, I hurt myself. All I want to do is get one more chance to get this right, Bran."

"You don't need my blessing to do that," Brandon remarked, sighing.

"I might not need it, but I want it. I want to do this right," Dylan said gently.

"Hear me out, Dylan. I want to believe that you're going to do this right and you're not going to hurt her anymore. I just don't know if I trust you with her."

"You have every right to not trust me, but all I'm asking for is a chance - one more chance." Dylan eyes were pleading.

"Like I said, Dylan: I really want this to work out for you two. I mean, I helped her escape from Jimbo last night," Brandon didn't make eye contact. "You don't understand how badly she wants you two back the way you were."

"I want it too," Dylan looked in Brenda's direction and caught her darting into a classroom. "More than you and Brenda know."

"Then you better tell Kelly to lay off," Brandon finally looked Dylan in the eyes. "She didn't just come by the house last night. She seems to think that messing with Brenda's life is perfectly okay. You need to make it clear to her that it's Brenda you're with—if that's what you want at all."

"It _is_, Bran," Dylan stopped him. His eyes were wildly serious—it was an expression that only Dylan McKay could perfect. "I already told her. I plan to discuss it with her again—with Brenda. I want this whole mess to be over. I want you to know your sister is the one I want."

"You better mean that, Dylan," Brandon pointed his index finger into Dylan's chest. "I might have been tolerant through this whole Brenda-Dylan-Kelly Bermuda triangle from hell, but I won't tolerate it anymore. Let me make that clear."

"It's crystal clear. There is no more Kelly. It's over; it's done. It never should have even happened," Dylan sighed. "So, are we cool, Minnesota?"

Brandon laughed. "Sometimes I think that you California types have significant issues with first names. Maybe I should stick with Minnesota—for your sake."

"You know, it fits, B. It really does. Actually, I think you should just change your name altogether. Minnesota Walsh—now, there's a real Hollywood name."

"Good to have you back, McKay," Brandon smiled, stopping at the vending machine.

"Good to be back," Dylan held one finger up. "Now, if I'm not mistaken, I think I owe you a soda."

"I think I'm gonna like you dating my sister."

"Glad to hear you say that. See, there's a thing or two I've learned from living in L.A. One is that you can never trust anyone. The other is that every man has his price. You, my friend, are very, very cheap."

"Not cheap—affordable," Brandon nodded, taking his soda. With that, Brandon and Dylan walked down the hallway, enjoying how things had so quickly become normal again.


	6. Wicked Games

The drama with Kelly is slowly coming to a boil. I don't think the story calls for a Brenda-Kelly blowout yet, so you're going to have to settle for a Kelly-Brandon blowout (but trust me, good things come to those that wait). I thought that I would give you all a little glimpse into what's going on in Kelly's head while I'm building the plot. So, enjoy (and review)!

**Disclaimer: I do not own Beverly Hills, 90210 or any of its characters (clearly)**

She sat in the driveway for what seemed like an eternity. She had pulled out the keys long ago in anticipation of the arrival of Brandon's car. She didn't expect Brenda to be with him. She had seen Brenda and Dylan from afar, holding hands in the parking lot, kissing like they used to, when she had settled for third wheel. She had briefly considered confronting them, but, reflecting on the voicemail that Dylan had left her that evening, had decided it would be a less than brilliant idea.

The words came back to her, hitting her suddenly, like a slap to the face. "Listen, Kel," He had begun in a raspy, hushed tone, "We need to talk. It's over. I know that telling you over the phone is pretty cheap, but I just wanted to let you know. I've made my choice. It's Brenda. You know, it's always been Brenda. This summer was so confusing for so many different reasons. I felt so out-of-it, like I wasn't good enough for her. I'm not—I'm still not. That doesn't mean I'm letting her go, though. So, call me back, smack me, get it over with—just don't drag her into it. I'm tired of all these games."

_Games_. Kelly laughed. She often wondered why everyone else hated games so much. Kelly looked at everything as a game. Manipulation had, after all, always been Kelly's forte. Her mom had perfected it long ago; the alcoholism had only made it worse. She knew how to play people and she was damn good at it—and there wasn't anything inherently wrong with knowing what you were good at.

The sound of an engine brought her out of her inner ramblings. She smiled mischievously as she heard the car door slam. Two pairs of footsteps walked up the drive. Brandon immediately walked up to the passenger side, fumbling with his car keys.

"Kelly?" Brandon folded his arms. "Wanna explain what you're doing here?"

"Waiting for you, actually," Kelly said, without looking at him. "Mind if I come in for a while?"

Cindy Walsh walked up to the front door with a bag of groceries in hand. She glanced towards Brandon, signaling that she needed the keys.

"What the hell do you think you're doing calling here at 12:45 at night and dropping by for no inherent reason?" Brandon whispered, moving his face closer to hers so that Cindy couldn't overhear. "I don't know what this is about, but I'm not about to let you screw over my sister."

"Screw over?" Kelly opened her car door and got out, walking up to the front door. "Do you really think that I'm in this to screw over your sister?"

"Honestly, Kelly, I do," Brandon said, quietly, his jaw clenched. All became quiet as they neared the door and came within earshot of Cindy. Brandon opened the door and directed Kelly to come into the living room.

The two said nothing until Cindy put away the groceries and excused herself to garden in the back yard.

"Last night I made a mistake, Brandon," Kelly glanced out the window, whilst Brandon's eyes bored through her. "I know that it was pretty sneaky, leaving a voicemail and scaring Bren like that. I just needed to talk to her. Things have gotten so messed up between us."

"That's an understatement. The relationship between you and Bren is practically nonexistent—and, as far as I'm concerned, it should stay that way," Brandon was very obviously frustrated by Kelly's presence.

"Why do you all treat me like I'm evil or something? Dylan initiated everything that happened between us this summer. It's not like I wanted to cheat with my best friend's boyfriend. It's the last thing that I wanted to do," Kelly looked Brandon in the eye.

"Then why is that exactly what you did?" Brandon asked callously.

"I've always liked Dylan McKay, Brandon," Kelly muttered weakly. "I didn't go after him simply because he was Brenda Walsh's boyfriend."

"Doesn't give you the right to be an absolute bitch," Brandon remained standing as Kelly took a seat.

"How am I the bitch? Brenda is doing the same thing to me as I did to her," Kelly said sharply. "Dylan didn't even tell me he'd made his choice."

"That's a lie, Kelly, and you know it," Brandon's eyes were gleaming with irritation now. "If you aren't going to speak to me honestly, I'd rather you just not speak to me at all."

"He left a voicemail, okay? Hardly fair," Kelly scoffed.

"Well, sometimes life isn't fair. Leave them alone, Kelly. I'm going to say this only once. I can't make you, but I certainly can try," Brandon moved closer to Kelly, leaning in to her to adequately express his point. "Brenda and Dylan have been through a whole lot of shit—Dylan has put Brenda through most of that shit, but if she loves him and he loves her, I have no problem with their relationship sans Kelly Taylor."

Kelly shot him a dirty look that could have easily passed for a soul-sucking glare. "You don't get it, Brandon. You don't understand anything about this."

"No, _you_ don't get it, Kelly," Brandon glanced and spied Brenda's box of mementos in the open storage closet. He walked away, fuming, and grabbed it, throwing it on the couch beside Kelly. He pulled out picture after picture, throwing a pile into Kelly's lap that she absently stared at. "Brenda has been going through this box non-stop over the past few days. She thought you'd already won this ultimatum thing. The thing is, you didn't. Dylan and Brenda are as inseparable now as they were here—and here—and here. You say I don't get it, but I think you're the one who's in the dark, Kel."

Kelly rose from her seat, throwing the pictures in the box. "I thought you'd listen to me, Brandon. I thought we were friends."

"We were friends, Kelly. At least we were before you turned into this, this—whatever you are." He sighed. "I think you need to go."

"Brandon, why won't you listen to me?" Kelly asked incredulously.

"You don't have anything to say, Kel," His eyes were piercing, but his voice was calm. She rose from her seat reluctantly and he ushered her to the door.

"You aren't doing you or your sister a favor, Brandon," Her voice was getting louder.

"I just want you out of here, Kelly," Brandon remained calm as he opened the door. "I don't care what you say anymore. You don't care about Brenda, you don't care about me."

"So, you don't care about me—not at all, not even a little?" Kelly seemed almost hurt. Brandon didn't allow himself to cave under the weight of her words. He stood firmly, his eyes unreadable.

"I don't care about people who intentionally hurt the people I love," Kelly stared at him for another moment, and he, in a fit of fury, slammed the door in her face.

Kelly walked to the car, silently cursing Brenda. She put the keys in the ignition, turned on the engine, and began to pull out into the street. Before she could go any farther, however, Brandon opened the door once again. He held out a note in his hand, and when he reached the car, he threw it into her lap.

"I forgot that Brenda wanted me to give you this," Brandon raised his eyebrows. "Have a nice night, Kel." His solemn expression perplexed her. She almost called after him, but the note caught her attention.

On the original note that she had scrawled on a piece of stationary, a message was written in bright red lipstick. It read, much to her surprise:

_Dear Kelly, _

_ Bite Me_


	7. Pacific Coast Highway

Some Brenda/Dylan fluff. I think it's important that they work out the major kinks in their relationship (most notably, Kelly). Drama fiends, worry not: Major action is coming up in the next chapter! Thank-you for all your feedback; it really gives me the motivation to update so quickly! :)

**Disclaimer: I don't own Beverly Hills, 90210 or any of its characters**

The sun was bobbing up and down along the horizon as Dylan's motorcycle made its way down the road. The wind and the sway of the surf had slowly drawn Brenda into a lull. She leaned against Dylan's back, daydreaming vaguely about old times, when Kelly had been the least of her worries. She had scrawled the note on Kelly's stationary as something of an afterthought. She knew that Kelly would probably come by, and she needed ammunition. It wasn't like her to be this vicious, but she couldn't help it—it was a war now, and no longer was it solely about Dylan.

She didn't know how they had gotten to this point. How was it that Brenda was fighting with Kelly over her identity? She hadn't quite pieced it together just yet, but it sometimes seemed as though that was what the whole Dylan thing was about: Kelly wanting to be, in some strange, underlying way, something more than an afterthought, someone more like Brenda. It wasn't that Brenda was particularly better than her—it was the fact that Brenda Walsh and her family was the closest thing to normal that Beverly Hills would ever find. Kelly might have been the Queen of West Beverly, but Brenda was the lady-in-waiting, the one just under the surface, the one that could use being in the shadow to her advantage. She had seen glimpses of Kelly's peculiar jealous tendency towards her—it had started when she had discovered how uncomplicated Brenda's life had been at home. It had expanded as Dylan had committed to Brenda, as Brandon had rejected Kelly's advances, and as Brenda had come into her own.

They had approached a parking lot located on the strip between the road and the beach. As Dylan's bike had come to a halt, Brenda had allowed all thoughts of Kelly to drift away. She'd waited for Dylan to climb off, and then she took his hand, climbing off herself, breathing in fresh ocean air.

"You're quiet," Dylan said as he pulled her closer. "To be honest, it's kind of worrying me."

"I wasn't aware something could bother you," She raised one eyebrow teasingly. "I mean, I've always thought indifference was one of your most admirable qualities."

"Feigning an appearance of indifference is one of my finer points," Dylan put his hands around Brenda's hips, looking into her eyes whilst wearing his signature half-smile. "Except when I'm around you, that is."

"I was thinking about that last night, you know," She grinned as she put her arms around his neck. "I don't know how to say it, McKay, but I'm somehow flattered you feel like you can lose your cool around me."

"Sometimes I think that I can only be myself around you, Bren," He looked away and then looked back, a hint of insecurity in his rich mocha eyes. "I don't mean to sound like we're in some sort of cheap John Hughes movie, but, I mean this—honestly."

"Sometimes I feel like we're in a John Hughes movie—honestly," Brenda smiled cleverly and stood on her tip-toes to peck Dylan lightly. "Or maybe Emily was right. Maybe we are on our own version of Knots' Landing."

"Could be, but it's the price we pay for being young and beautiful—at least, in theory," Dylan laughed and grabbed Brenda's hand as she began to walk away. They walked down wooden steps to the beach. "Is Kelly still getting to you that bad, Bren?"

"How can she not?" Brenda looked out to the horizon, examining how the light played on the surface of the water. "Up until last night, I thought I'd lost you to her. Even now, I don't know what the hell I'm up against."

"Just what do you think Kelly has the incredible capability of doing?" Dylan drew Brenda closer, putting his arm around her waist in a protective gesture.

"Dylan," She looked him in the eye, probing for emotion in his eyes, "I always thought we'd be forever. I know every young couple thinks that, but I don't know. Maybe I fooled myself into thinking we were invincible, into thinking that I was the only girl that could catch your eye. She has the capability of stealing you, Dylan. Your emotions for her can't possibly fade so quickly."

"They can if they were never real to begin with," Dylan grasped her wrists, interlacing their fingers. "I'm sorry, Bren. I don't think I can ever tell you that enough. I'm sorry for not choosing you from the second you two gave me the choice. I'm sorry I didn't realize how amazing you were before I put a wedge between us. I'm sorry I didn't appreciate you for everything you're worth—for all that you are. I'm sorry I didn't realize sooner that you're the only girl I want to be with, the only girl that leaves me practically breathless. You're every single thing I've ever wanted. You gave me things that I didn't even know I needed. I missed you so much—not just when you went to Paris, but when you came home. There was an emotional distance that almost demolished us entirely. That's why I was afraid; it's why I was tempted to choose Kelly. It would have been easy. There's no emotional bond, just a physical one. I guess I just finally came to terms with the fact that if this is hard, if this is complicated, well then, that's how it is. It's you and me, Brenda—just you and me."

Brenda simply stared. She was on the verge of tears, and she didn't know if she could say anything. Being quiet was the only thing she could do. She embraced him and absorbed the warmth that was suddenly all around her. Brenda finally pulled away, and kissed him on the cheek, then on the lips again. He kissed her softly, running his palm along the length of her body.

After a while Brenda set out a beach blanket, and they had both sat there for a long time, watching the sky burst with bright colors—orange, burnt red, pink, and then soft, muted lilac. Brenda laid her head on his chest, and his arms encircled her. "I don't think I could imagine a more perfect moment," Brenda had commented, as the last visible portion of the sun sank under the horizon.

"Me either, Bren," He gazed at her, moving his hand from her waist to her forehead. He moved her bangs away from her face, kissing her all over, and finally moving to her lips. "I don't know how I could be so stupid for so long."

"Well, Kelly is beautiful. She's flirtatious and charming—everything a guy could want," Brenda still looked into his eyes, feeling a trace of Dylan's insecurity. "I never thought I was really your type anyway, you know."

"Don't act like she has something you don't. You're beautiful, Brenda. You're beautiful and smart; funny, talented, kind-hearted. You've taken me into your family when I didn't have anyone to turn to. You and Brandon have been there for me since the very beginning," He kissed her again, lightly. "I was stupid, Bren. You're being stupid if you think you're not my type—because you obviously are. You're exactly my type."

Brenda grinned, kissing Dylan with all the inward passion built up inside of her. After a few moments, Dylan pulled away, his eyes holding within them an expression of satisfaction. "Oh, Bren? Don't think you need to fish for compliments around me—especially when I am so eternally grateful."

"Are you now, Dylan?" She ran her fingertips along his hips.

"Yes, and I'm going to be spending most of my time conjuring up ways to make it up to you," Dylan kissed her on the neck, laughing in that infectious manner of his. "Have any bright ideas, m'lady?"

"Oh, just a few," Brenda grinned mischievously, as Dylan pulled her on top of him. Apathetic to the on-setting darkness, they stayed like that for a very long time.


	8. For What It's Worth

So, here's the first part of the action promised. Stay tuned, because I have a lot of ideas that I think you're gonna love :). While I would like for Jim to be easy about this, I think you all get that something like Brenda and Dylan sneaking around and getting back together isn't all that peachy from Jim's perspective. Thank-you for all of the reviews; glad that you guys like where I'm taking this story! Please continue to let me know what you think!

**Disclaimer: I do not own Beverly Hills, 90210 or any of its characters. Don't sue me; what good would that do either of us?**

She held on to his waist tightly as they neared Hillcrest. She somehow never thought that these nights would end and was always somehow disappointed when she had to climb the stairs to her bedroom after muttering some lame excuse about studying at the Peach Pit with Donna or going out with some friends to a movie. She wanted things to be like they used to, before Baja, before everything had gotten so murky. She hated lying to her parents. She hated seeing the look in her brother's eyes every night, when he saw her coming home.

She always was waiting for the other shoe to drop—these stealth missions were enjoyable, but evasive was something she had never hoped to be. They had gotten together every night that week. Mostly they went to the beach, but there had been a night when they'd decided to go to his house, a night when they'd nearly made the decision to sleep together again. She would have gladly indulged herself, but the thought of Jim knocking on Dylan's door only to have Brenda answering it with a sheet wrapped around her was less than pleasant. So, they remained this way. Dylan didn't force her to tell her parents and was fine with their relationship remaining low-key for now. But still…

There was an undying hope that kept them both going, an undying hope that somehow, in some way Cindy and Jim could accept their relationship for what it was.

"Thinking again, huh?" Dylan said as they pulled over on the familiar stretch of shaded sidewalk.

"I'm a thinking gal; you know that better than anyone," Brenda climbed off, folding her arms, looking off into the distance.

"You're right. It's one of the things I love so much about you," Dylan joined her, putting his hands around her waist. He kissed her lightly. "So, enlighten me? What is tonight's philosophical fixation?"

"To be or not to be? To be a secret and be together or to not be a secret at all and risk the consequences," Brenda looked into his eyes. The naïve vulnerability had returned; the Brenda of yesteryear that he had once known was once again in his arms—and he felt like his old self, so afraid to hurt her that he couldn't let her go.

"You know how I feel, Bren. All I want is to be with you—I don't care about the circumstances," He kissed her on the cheek, running his hand through her hair. "The question is, how do you feel?"

Brenda hesitated. "Sometimes I think that we should just bite the bullet. I want to be with you too. I love you so much. But all this sneaking around is hard—even you said it before this, this—" She was unable to finish.

"Don't think about it, Brenda," He put one hand on her cheek, stroking her and still looking her in the eye, though she now evaded his gaze. "I love you and that's all that matters." Brenda finally steadied her eyes on him again, and they kissed, more fervently than they had before.

By the time they heard footsteps, it was too late. "Hope I'm not interrupting anything," Jim's voice caused a jolt to run through Brenda's body. "Nice to see you, Donna." Jim tilted his head in Dylan's direction.

"Sir-," Dylan began, but he found himself unable to finish. Jim's glare was enough to strike fear through the heart of anyone—even a rebel with a very clear cause.

"You know, when Kelly told me that you two were sneaking around behind our backs, I didn't believe her." Jim began. Brenda's heart nearly stopped in its place. "I thought that she was just on Brenda's case. I thought that it was all a ploy. Then I started noticing things. First it was Brandon's evasiveness when I asked him if he saw you at the Peach Pit when you said you had been there—then it was the evasiveness in Brenda, the excuses. They were all too convenient. Donna never came in because she didn't want to be past curfew; the friends were all from the acting class that I found out Brenda was never enrolled in. I'm really fed up with these lies, Brenda. I'm even more fed up with the fact that you feel the need to leave your mother and I out of your personal life."

"Like you would have ever given your blessing, dad," Brenda's hands were on her hips. It was obvious she was frustrated for more reasons than one. "After everything—after all of this mess."

"How do you know if you never ask me, Brenda?" Jim's voice was slowly creeping up in volume.

"Because I asked you before!" Brenda suddenly became out of control and gave into her anger. "I told you how important it was to see Dylan! I told you that I loved him. You didn't care!"

"Brenda, you don't care about anyone in this household but yourself. You've had Brandon lying for you, you've had your mother defending you for your actions—well, I'm not part of the Walsh Welcome Wagon anymore. I've told you from the very beginning that I didn't want you getting involved with him—and now look where we are!" Brenda tried to move past her father, but he pushed her back. Dylan came up behind her, his hands lightly brushing her shoulders. He felt almost dumb, completely unable to speak.

"Since when have you ever been part of the Walsh Welcome Wagon, dad?" Brenda's expression was incredulous. "Like you said, you've been against us from the very beginning. How could I expect you to be supportive now?"

"Don't turn my words on me, Brenda!" Jim's mouth was tight. Brenda gave him a stare filled with resentment and sorrow. Cindy appeared by Jim's side, gazing sympathetically towards Dylan.

"Mr. Walsh, can we please talk about this? You both are angry about this right now; we can't talk about this logically unless you calm down!" Dylan tried to interpose himself between them.

"So, now you're the voice of reason?" Jim eyed Dylan viciously. "If I wasn't mistaken, you haven't exactly proven yourself to be any better than I originally thought you to be."

"Don't do this," Brenda screamed. "Don't attack him! I love him, dad. Can't you just accept that?" Brenda began to sob wildly. Dylan looked after her, pain rising in his gut.

"Attack me all you want," Dylan outstretched his arms. "I deserve it. I've done some pretty hurtful things. In fact, I'd be surprised if you didn't react like this."

"You're right; you have," Cindy said, whilst holding her daughter, whose sobs were still filling the formerly quiet evening. "But we've always loved you, Dylan—not just as Brenda's boyfriend, as a son."

"Never as a son! I'd never allow a son of mine to do these things, to say the things he has," Jim folded his arms, his anger still very evident.

A tear went down Dylan's cheek. A similar sadness was in Dylan's eyes; a sadness that Brenda had often noticed.

Jim stared a moment, his eyes softening. He sighed, "I don't want to hear any more about this." He turned on his heel and walked away, giving Dylan a stare that prompted more tears to fall. Brenda ran to Dylan, breaking free of Cindy's grasp. "I don't need to waste my time on some worthless kid anymore."

"Don't listen to him, Dylan," She whispered in his ear, "I love you—more than you can imagine. Brandon loves you. My mom loves you. Don't ever think you're worthless."

Dylan grasped Brenda's waist, crying into her shoulder. She was always a comfort—always his companion, even when he was felt isolated from the world. "I love you too, Bren. That's one thing that'll never change. Don't worry about all of this," He looked her in the eye. "The one thing I missed the most about us is the fact that I become a different person with you; I become myself. I don't ever want to stop being this person, Bren. I don't ever want what we have to end. I feel like we've overcome so much. Why should we worry about one battle when the war's already won?"

Cindy approached them. Her eyes were soft as she touched Dylan's shoulder. "I'm going to see what I can do about this, Dylan. In the meantime, I think two blessings are all you'll need." She smiled, and left them alone for another long moment.

In the sparse moonlight of that night, Dylan and Brenda stood together, holding each other for a long time. There was a battle still before them, but suddenly, it seemed as though they'd already won the war.


	9. Loose Ends

And now for the update I've been building up to! So, in this chapter the Kelly drama is in full swing. Most notably, Kelly is not taking Dylan's choice well. I've revised this chapter because I felt like the writing was out of character for Kelly. Kelly may be making bad choices, but, at the end of the day, she's not a terrible person. Hope you enjoy this chapter - be sure to review!

**Disclaimer: I do not own Beverly Hills, 90210 or any of its characters.  
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From the moment he pulled into the driveway, he could tell that something was off. There was a gnawing feeling in his gut. He thought, for a short moment, that perhaps it was Jim's words that produced the discomfort, but that pain was of a different sort altogether. Jim's words had pierced him, yes, but they hadn't necessarily unnerved him. He walked to the door, desperately hoping that the feeling he simply couldn't shake was the result of some false manifestation of perceived doom, but when he twisted the knob, all of his suspicions were confirmed.

The door was unlocked.

He wasn't afraid. He knew what would be awaiting him as he walked in. He caught a short glimpse of blonde hair and white skin. Her eyes were filled with vehemence and her lips were pursed. Dylan realized that it had been awhile since they had been completely alone.

"What are you doing here?" Dylan asked coolly. "Is this some kind of prank, Kel?"

Kelly obviously didn't know what to say at first. She, however, found her tongue at long last. "I needed to see you, Dylan. I can't just let this go. I've seen you two together and, I have to say, I'm confused."

"Let me make this very clear to you. You know that I never say things I don't mean. I don't mince words or actions. You and Brenda wanted me to make a choice and I made one," He needed to get away from her. He couldn't even look her in the eye. She stood there dripping in disappointment. "I choose Brenda. It's always been Brenda, Kel."

"You made the choice because I wasn't there, Dylan," Kelly followed him closely. "Don't even try to deny that."

"That's a really idiotic reason to make a choice, Kelly, but, you know, I would have. I would have made a stupid choice if Brenda hadn't shown up. I would have made the easy choice, Kelly. I would have went for the one who doesn't have parents who will berate me, the one that I don't have any emotional attachment to, the one who has no problem with instability," Dylan glared at her, his frustration mounting.

"You flatter me," Kelly replied sharply.

"Let me explain, Kelly," Dylan sighed. "The truth is, Brenda isn't the easiest to be with. She has parents who aren't too crazy about me. I've had to apologize to people more than you realize just to get a _shot_ at dating her again. I just took a beating from Jim Walsh that isn't making me feel too hot. Look, Kelly, we're alike - in some ways, we're too alike. Being with you brings out the worst in me."

"I think that you're wrong," Kelly sat down on the couch, crossing her legs. Dylan remained standing, as she went on. "I think we're very similar, Dylan. We understand each other. How can Brenda ever get people like us? You have a tumultuous relationship with your parents and so do I. We've struggled to find ourselves in very different ways. It's led us to each other."

"Kelly," Dylan began, the anger never clearer as he closed his eyes, doing his best to calm down. "That's what I meant about us being alike. We both have problems. We both have been kicked from house to house by parents that aren't completely there for us. Maybe that's why it's better if we see other people."

"I can't believe this," Kelly looked at him intently. "I can't believe that you're denying that we have something. Dylan, our attraction is tangible. I can feel it. I know you can too."

"Kelly, I love Brenda," Dylan was getting closer to Kelly, and was, at this point, practically yelling. "I'm not saying that we never had something. We did. That's why it's important that I'm honest with you now."

Kelly sat still, eyeing Dylan with a quiet, simmering frustration. "Is that really why you're being honest, Dylan? You've never been so big with honesty before."

The phone ringing startled both of them. "I need to get that," Dylan said with bated breath. Kelly sighed, leaning back into the couch.

Dylan, in vexation, ripped the phone from the stand. "Hello?" He repeated it again and again, growing increasingly frantic for someone to speak on the other end of the line.

"Dylan," Brenda's voice sounded on the other end. "I wanted to check if you got home alright."

"He's home alright," Kelly said, rolling her eyes. Dylan shot Kelly a dirty look.

"Dylan?" The pained voice finally came. "Tell me that isn't Kelly."

"Bren, I'm trying to get her out of here. Believe me-," Dylan said gently. He could hear Brenda's slow, harried breath and it hurt him. It seared through him like nothing else could. "She was here when I got home. The door was open when I walked in."

"I just wanted to say I love you," Dylan was nearly positive that he could hear her sob. "I wanted to let you know that I think you're worth so much. I thought what my dad said was cruel and awful, and I wanted to make sure you were okay."

"Bren, I love you—more than anything. Please don't cry," he was feeling miserable himself. "Don't go."

Kelly stood up, folding her arms. She couldn't believe how fast the situation with Dylan had crumbled.

"I have to," She whispered, her voice breaking. "Jim's at the door."

"Bren, please," He pleaded with her. He couldn't look at Kelly. The room was spinning for no apparent reason. It suddenly occurred to him that there was nothing he could do to escape his own personal version of hell. "Meet me tomorrow at least."

She hesitated. He could hear Jim's voice in the background. Brenda muttered something and then he heard the dial tone—limp, heavy, and hollow. Dylan stood there with the phone for a few minutes. He eventually replaced the receiver, and walked towards Kelly in a cool, decided motion.

"Get the hell out of here, Kelly," Dylan motioned towards the door. His dark eyes were very serious and stolid.

"Or what?" She ventured, pursing her lips. "You'll brood over Brenda? Guess what? I had nothing to do with what just happened between you and Brenda. Do you think that all of this will just go away? She doesn't even know the truth yet. Don't pretend that you're so high and mighty, Dylan."

"I'm going to tell her," Dylan realized that Kelly had a point, even if he remained angry at her. "I need some time."

"Dylan, if you don't tell Brenda, I'm going to," Kelly replied. "I'm going to tell her all about the summer - all about how you covered everything up."

"Kelly, I want you out," Dylan was suddenly pulling her by the wrist, directing her towards the door, "I don't want you dropping by here unannounced. I don't want you in my house at all."

"Stop this," Kelly pulled her wrist away from him. "Look, Dylan, I can't say that I didn't expect you to choose me. I can't say that after everything I've been through with you for the past year didn't leave me with the wild assumption that we maybe had something. I was a bad friend. I was dishonest. So were you." She touched his hand.

"Kelly, I asked you to get out," He pulled his hand away with a jerk, reaching for the door. "Kindly do so."

"Listen," Kelly positioned herself in front of the door. "If I walk out this door, everything we've ever had walks out with me."

"Kelly, I've said this before, but I'll say it one more time: I choose Brenda," Dylan said, his voice rising. "I understand that we did have had something before, but it is absolutely not okay to barge into my house uninvited and unannounced."

"You never used to mind," Kelly said sardonically. "Especially not when you were lying to your girlfriend and flirting with me."

"Kelly, I don't want you here. Don't you get it? Can't you take a hint?" Dylan began, punching blindly at a wall in rage. "I love Brenda. I've always loved Brenda. I don't know what I was thinking this summer. I have no idea where my head was," Dylan was still yelling, and Kelly's face bordered on disgust as she realized he was at the verge of tears. "If you've cost me her forever, I swear. You will never hear the end of it."

"Look, Dylan," Kelly sighed, "I don't want to leave it like this. I'm not trying to get between you and Brenda. That's the last thing I wanted to do."

"Oh, bullshit," Dylan slammed his fist on the wall again. "You talked to Jim about us being back together. That's so low, Kelly."

"You don't understand," Kelly squinted, as Dylan walked away yet again. He found making eye contact with her painful.

"No, _you_ don't understand," Dylan turned back once again. He couldn't let her twist the situation in any direction she liked any longer. "I want to be with Brenda. There's no room for discussion."

Kelly gazed at him numbly. She walked to the couch briskly and lifted her satchel to rest on her shoulder. "I guess that's it then."

"Yes," Dylan said, still on edge, opening the door. "That's it. Don't get involved in my life anymore. Don't concern yourself with Brenda and I. Don't talk to Jim or Cindy or Brandon about us. They're the closest thing to family I have and you're not helping my case."

"You enjoy being with Brenda, Dylan. You enjoy Jim, the Midwestern values, and Cindy's chicken Diablo. I'm sure it will be magnificent. It's all sunshine and roses with the Walshes, after all." Kelly made her way for the door, but stopped momentarily. "And to think, we almost had something."

"I'm not going to say it again," Dylan muttered bitterly.

Kelly, with one additional glance, walked out the door. Dylan, escorting to the door, watched as a car pulled up into the driveway. Jake Hanson emerged from the car.

"Dylan, I think you remember Jake," Kelly was still smirking as Dylan stood limply in the driveway.

"Dylan," Jake said, as Dylan's chest filled with bitterness. He couldn't believe the person that Jake had become. "How's it going?"

"I'm just fine. Let me guess: You were just in the neighborhood?" Dylan laughed wryly, half to himself.

"Something like that," Jake raised his eyebrows, planting a kiss on Kelly's neck. "What's it to you?"

"Nothing," Dylan threw Jake a fake smile, not believing that a former friend could seem so distant. "Have a nice night."

He walked back inside, feeling Kelly's stare on his back. He could sense her anger as Jake's tires squealed off into the night. He didn't care, though. He didn't care if she hated him. He might have felt guilty for the way he had approached the situation, but he had no sympathy for Kelly. All he could think about was Brenda. The sadness of the situation hit him abruptly. It felt like an enormous bolder was on his chest. He sunk into bed, feeling entirely drained.

Tomorrow was the only thing that he could possibly invest his hope in. It seemed somewhat far away, but his anxiousness was eased by the simple thought of holding Brenda in his arms. He was sedated by the subtle assurance that tomorrow would have only good things in store, only Brenda in store. He fell asleep, aching, but satisfied in the existence of that simple, yet profound hope.


	10. Suspense, Among Other Things

After the last chapter, I thought you'd need a breather. While the Dylan/Brenda turmoil is still evidently going on, I thought it would be interesting to explore things from Brandon's perspective. While he provides some comedic relief, he's also exploring some of his feelings... for Kelly, mostly. Also, since Dylan chose Brenda, the Kelly-Dylan-Brenda conversation never happened, and, therefore, there is still a MAJOR conversation to be had about Dylan's summer fling. Not to mention the fact that Jack McKay is still in the picture. Tons of drama is still headed your way, but, in the meantime, enjoy this :). As always, your reviews are very much appreciated!

**Disclaimer: I do not own Beverly Hills, 90210 or any of its characters**

The kitchen was empty that morning, and eerily quiet. Brandon was accustomed to his father's incessant chatter about traffic, the sound of his mother making breakfast, the sound of coffee perking, the sound of Brenda practicing a Tennessee Williams monologue into her cereal bowl—the absence of noise entirely was… well, foreign to him.

He wondered, for a split second, if they were all playing a prank on him. Then he slowly remembered the previous night, which he had, in the slow process of waking, dismissed as a bad dream. He sometimes wondered if melodrama didn't run in the family—disowning Dylan as a theoretical son was something Brandon didn't really think Jim was entirely capable of… until last night, that was. Maybe, he thought, trying to raise his spirits, joining the circus was a good idea after all. Way less drama than living in this zip code.

Brandon tried to shrug away all the unpleasant thoughts and put a pot of coffee on as something of an experiment. While it was true he wasn't an avid coffee drinker, he figured that today, of all days, was a day to start. The fatigue and drama of the previous evening was beginning to sink in rapidly.

He poured himself a bowl of cereal hesitantly, fearing that something sinister might be lying within the realms of the nearly empty box of Cheerios. Hey, crazier things had happened and Brandon wasn't sure why that horrid feeling of anticipation was clinging so persistently to his gut. He had seen many bad horror movies. You could never dismiss something as ludicrous too quickly.

The sound of footsteps coming down the stairs had alarmed him at first—almost as much as the possibility of some evil shadow jumping out of his cereal box.

The suspense added up to a rather anti-climactic entrance. Brenda, in a faded t-shirt and shorts, aimlessly walked into the kitchen, reaching for the newly-brewed pot of coffee.

"Well, good morning, sunshine," Brandon had walked to his sister and had thrown an arm around her. "The sun is shining, the birds are chirping, and Brenda Walsh has emerged from her crypt."

Brenda had thrown him a dirty glance, and had rummaged through the cupboards, groggily.

"You're not going to get anywhere by not talking about it, Bren," Brandon was animated, almost lively, "You're gonna have to talk sometime and I'm the guy who is going to incessantly annoy you until you do."

"What does someone have to do to get a mug around here?" Brenda had cried in outrage.

Brandon had casually walked to a cupboard just to the right of Brenda, and had handed her Jim's regular cup. "You know, people who are deeply bothered by a troubling experience often express anger over trivial things and hostility towards those they are closest to."

"Well, thank you, Dr. Freud," Brenda glared at Brandon momentarily, which didn't quite faze him. "Any other psychological ailments you'd like to make me aware of?"

"Let's see," Brandon stroked his chin, putting on a thick German accent. "It seems that you might be suffering from neurosis, a bout of hysteria—brought on by the onset of an odd combination of reuniting with old boyfriends and getting into fights with the notorious creature known only by his moniker: Jimbo."

"Interesting theory," Brenda had smiled, despite her foul mood. "And let me guess: Kelly Taylor is actually one of my other personalities and/or is a figment of my imagination brought on by a psychological ailment that has no cure."

"Perhaps brilliance does run in the family," Brandon raised his eyebrows, walking to the cupboard to get another mug out for himself. "Amazing, is it not? You are truly my sister after all."

Brenda smiled, momentarily, but it faded as she took a long sip of her coffee, eyeing Brandon with that look in her eyes—that "I'm-confused-by-Dylan-and-really-hurting" look.

"So, is it Showdown at Casa Walsh '93 or is it something else that's bugging you, Bren?" Brandon had dared to inquire. Brenda had hesitated, putting her cup down, thinking carefully about her answer.

"I called him last night," Brenda shrugged, leaning back on the counter. "Kelly answered the phone."

The sudden dawn of realization woke Brandon up with a start. His eyes were wide; anger was coming into play steadily. "She was at his house last night?"

"It seems as such," Brenda tried to not think about her, but her heart was beating fast. She suddenly felt entirely empty. "I don't know what to think, Brandon. I was crying, telling him I loved him, and there she was, sitting on his couch."

"Sitting on his couch?" Brandon repeated, squinting. "Are you taking creative license with this, Bren?"

"Well, I imagine she would be, sitting there in something skintight and skanky, saying 'Oh, Dylan, just take me now' or something like that," Brenda trailed off, trying to hide the hurt, if only for her own sake.

"Why don't you just sew a scarlet letter on her clothes or something?" Brandon folded his arms, before heaving a little sigh. "Bren, don't get me wrong. I don't think Kelly's a girl scout or anything, but don't you think you're being a little harsh?" Brandon looked down, wondering why he was coming to Kelly's defense. He wasn't even supposed to _like_ her at the moment.

"Why are you defending her, Brandon? She's been nothing but a bitch throughout this whole thing, trying to strike and steal Dylan when I'm not looking," Brenda narrowed her eyes.

"Bren, you're being unfair… and, a little woe-is-me-Sylvia Plath-esque, to be honest," Brandon put his arms on either shoulder. "Let's just think about this rationally."

"Oh, well, rationally it is then," Brenda spoke sardonically, "I'm sure Kelly and Dylan were just having a cute, totally appropriate discussion about homework or something. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go stick my head in the oven." She began to walk away, and had almost reached the stairs, when they heard what they first mistook as thunder. In another moment, Brenda realized that it was the rev of a motorcycle—Dylan's motorcycle.

She stopped dead in her tracks. "You do know that I was kidding about the whole Sylvia Plath thing," Brandon followed her to the foot of the stairwell. "Right? Brenda?"

"Dylan's here," She said softly, blankly. "Dylan's here and he's going to tell me he changed his mind, that he wants Kelly and there's nothing I can do about it—and I'm not even dressed! Oh God, this can't be happening." Brenda ran to her bedroom, slamming the door behind her.

Brandon, somewhat confounded by her words, rushed to the window, pulling back the curtains. Dylan, removing his helmet, was, sure as day, stepping off of his motorcycle. Curiously, Kelly was nowhere in sight.

Brandon had absently opened the door, surprised to find Dylan already standing behind it. "Where is she?" Dylan said, his eyes wild.

Brandon closed the door behind him, glancing nervously in the direction of the stairwell. "She's probably taking a shower." Dylan pushed past him. "Upstairs—upstairs, where you can't go. Listen, are you okay, man? I heard about what happened."

Dylan turned around, facing him, in something of a daze. "I don't care what Jim said to me, Bran. It hurt, but, you know, Jim isn't a warm and fuzzy guy. I'm not either. Thing is, I love your sister and I really messed things up. I didn't even do it on purpose. I just," He rubbed his eyes in a frustrated motion, "I don't know what to do about it."

"Stop seeing Kelly, for one," Brandon said, awkwardly wiping the sweat from his forehead, wondering how his Saturday morning had so quickly went awry.

"I'm _not_ seeing her, Brandon," Dylan said, obviously agitated. "You don't even understand what's going on here."

"Well, why don't you enlighten me?" Brandon didn't know where the sudden hostility was coming from, but he was going with it.

"Don't you have any faith in me, Brandon? I renewed my promise to you—I went through all of this trouble because I love your sister. I chose your sister. I'm in love with Brenda in a way that I can't even fathom," Dylan sighed. "If you really have to know, when I got home last night, she'd somehow gotten into the house. I tried to kick her out. She was coming on to me, and all I could think about was Brenda—the pain I'd caused Brenda. She answered the phone when Brenda called. I tried to explain, but I don't think she got it. I don't think I'd get it either. Kelly is persistent. She always has been. I know it seems cheap to blame her, but after last night, man, I don't know."

"I want to believe you, Dylan," Brandon looked down. "I do believe you, I guess. I'm just worried about Brenda."

The door creaked open. Brenda, now wearing a tight, short dress and Dylan's leather jacket, had the same empty look in her eyes as she had before. She walked down the stairwell, making eye contact with Dylan. She was instantaneously reminded of the moment she'd seen Dylan the day she came home from Paris. She could remember vaguely Kelly's look of disdain upon seeing him, and how strange it had been, the three of them, together. Reason was suddenly taking her over.

Dylan met her at the bottom, staring at her with a deep, obvious longing.

"Didn't hear what you said on the phone to my proposition, but, either way, I'm not going to stop trying to explain." He reached for her hand. She took it, limply.

"Well, explain away. I'm more than happy to listen," Brenda folded her arms.

"Can we maybe go somewhere? Maybe just the two of us?" Dylan shrugged, glancing to Brandon, who had no response.

"Let's go then," She said, walking towards the door. "I want to get out of here anyway."

He followed, still holding her hand—and, for the first time in a while, no one interrupted anything. Brandon merely watched through the curtain as they mounted the bike, as Brenda wrapped her arms around Dylan's waist, as they pulled back onto Hillcrest, speeding off into the distance.


	11. The Art of Silence

As you know, Brenda is not one to let things fester. So, a confrontation with Dylan about Kelly? Could you expect anything less of our favorite 90210 drama queen? Anyway, this isn't quite Brenda/Dylan fluff; it involves their relationship, dealing with what really happened that summer, and working through it all. Stay tuned, though; the drama isn't nearly over! Your reviews, as always, are so nice! I'm glad that you guys are enjoying it!

**Disclaimer: I don't own Beverly Hills, 90210 or any of its characters (but if I did, let me tell you, Brenda would have never been written out of the show)**

She didn't know how they had ended up at the beach, nor did she ever stop to consider why Dylan had chosen this as their destination. She had been deep in thought as they had sped down the road, and at some interval, she had lost all consciousness of reality. The seed of a memory had grown into a full-fledged fixture within her head. Everything was suddenly making so much sense.

She had experienced a brief period of asking herself how she hadn't realized it sooner when it had been so obvious all along. She felt exhausted and tremendously sad—it was markedly difficult to even find the stamina to talk. What could possibly be said?

It was a chilly day, but Brenda was practically resilient to it. She liked the coolness; it was familiar and comfortable. It reminded her of the early days of autumn, in the wilds of Minnesota—only it didn't contain the same feeling. It was southern California after all: where the tide and people's allegiances changed, but the seasons, rarely.

They walked for a long while, not saying anything. They both were both completely lost in thought.

"I know that it sounded bad, Bren," Dylan had been the first to speak. Brenda merely glanced at the ground, at the sand, at the footprints she was making as she drifted along, trying to shun thoughts from her cluttered head entirely. "I told you the truth when I said that I had no idea she would be there when I got home. She blindsided me, and please don't think I would betray the trust we've been building lately. I wouldn't dare."

"I believe you, Dylan. With the way Kelly has been acting lately, I can't really put it past her," Brenda didn't look up, but she didn't pull away when Dylan put his arm around her waist, gently rubbing her side. She wanted so badly for this all to be a terrible mistake. "Things—this summer. They were complicated." She said, staring at her feet, at her leather boots that were, at this point, covered in sand.

Dylan kissed her cheek, pulling her to him so that she faced him. She could tell that he was waiting for her to finish.

"My dad and you, my dad and I, my trip to Paris, my fling with Rick, your fling with-," She couldn't speak the name just yet. "Whoever she was."

Dylan pulled her closer, stroking her hair. "All of it seems so meaningless now, doesn't it? Everything that was problematic, it's all fading away now. Being with you, it's made me realize that, whatever we have to go through to be here, it's worth it—absolutely, completely worth it. "

"Worth it," Brenda repeated his words as if they were foreign to her tongue. She looked up at him, and then looked back down. "I remember once you said you could just forget the world when you were with me," Brenda smiled, absently, "I always thought that I had this amazing power over you. I always thought that you really loved me, that you wouldn't do anything to hurt me."

"I didn't want to," Dylan continued to gaze, trying to keep her calm. He could see the melancholy in her eyes. "You have to believe me; I never wanted to hurt you. I still don't want to."

"It was Kelly, wasn't it?" She said, unable to contain herself any longer. "The fling you had this summer—it was with Kelly."

Dylan hesitated, almost frightened by her words. It took several moments for him to answer. "Yes." He swallowed hard.

Brenda sighed. She squirmed out of his embrace, walking back to the motorcycle. She wanted so desperately to sob as she reached the place that Dylan had parked. She sat down on the sand, putting her head in her hands. Dylan had rushed to her, sadness replacing his former contentment.

He sat next to her, not daring to touch her. He could only sit, and wait, and watch. "As much as the betrayal hurts, Dylan, it's not the thing that bothers me the most. I guess what hurts the most is that I was the last person to know. My own brother has been dropping hints. I've been so blind. I'm completely fixated on the past, I suppose. I've always thought that you were mine. I always thought that Kelly was my friend, that she respected what we had. I thought that you both respected what we had."

"Bren, I _am_ yours," Dylan had said feebly. His words had no effect, however, at this point. "I know it's hard to believe me now, but I was a different person this summer. I don't know what I was thinking or what I was doing. I wanted to forget everything, in a way. I wanted to be who I was before you—not caring about anyone, not feeling anything, being numb, indifferent to everything around me."

Brenda didn't say anything. She looked straight forward to the ocean. Noon rays bounced off the waves as they slowly rolled towards the shore.

"I wish there was a better way to say I'm sorry," He tilted his head, reaching for her hand. She looked at him, tears still welling up in her eyes.

"How can you be sorry?" She said, her voice shaking. "You knew exactly what you were doing. It wasn't an accident. How can you be sorry when you obviously wanted this to happen?"

"You think this is what I wanted to happen?" Dylan put his hands on either side of Brenda's waist. "You don't know how wrong you are, Bren."

"I'm not wrong. You put our relationship on hold for a fling with Kelly. Did you think I'd never find out? That you and I would break up and then you and Kelly could be together?" Brenda searched his eyes, but she couldn't find any traceable hesitance. He was saying everything sincerely. That confused her more than anything.

"I don't know what I was thinking. I told you that." Dylan still had his hands on her. She couldn't push him away and she didn't know quite why. She found herself powerless to his gaze, to his rich brown eyes, full of genuineness.

"I can't believe you," She raised her voice. "You slept with my best friend and expect me to just say 'it's okay' because you don't know what you were thinking? Because you thought that cheating with Kelly would make you forget all your pain? Make you feel like you used to? That might be good enough for some other girl. Maybe it's good enough of an excuse for Kelly, but, I can't speak for her. All I know is that it isn't good enough for me. Dylan, when I fell in love with you and I didn't expect it to be always fun or completely perfect. So, why is it that when it became slightly less than perfect it became okay to do whatever the hell you wanted to do?"

"I didn't sleep with her, Bren. You have to know that. I don't expect you to tell me that everything is okay either, because I know it isn't. Trust me." Dylan let go of her, because he could tell she was getting angry. It was all too evident in her eyes. "I don't think I ever expected this all to be perfect. I think that, in a way, you are too perfect for me. I'll never live up to what you deserve. The fact of the matter is, though, I've realized that I'll never be truly, deeply in love with anyone but you.

"How can I believe anything you say anymore?" Brenda bit her lip, eyeing him. "You're saying all these things, and they're making it impossible to stay mad at you!"

"If you want to be mad, be mad. I want you to always tell me how you feel. Hell, show me how mad you are if you're feeling that strongly. I'm a big boy; I can take it. Just don't doubt that you _can_ believe me, though. I'm back, Bren. I'm not the same guy that was willing to throw love away." Dylan had tried to convince her. He had tried, so badly, to convey what was in his heart. In the end, he knew that she was right, though. At this moment, nothing that he said was enough. Nothing could make everything better all at one time.

She stared downward for a few long moments, thinking, or, at least, trying to. She had, after what seemed a while, looked back at him and walked away. She didn't know where she was going, but she did know she had to get away. She had to cry, and she didn't know if she could do it in front of Dylan anymore.

She heard Dylan behind her, and she began to run as quickly as she could. Other beach-goers paid no attention to the scene— though, at one point, Dylan had nearly knocked down a girl on rollerskates.

"Brenda!" Dylan had called out to her, but she hadn't stopped. "Brenda, where are you going?"

When she hadn't answered, he'd run faster to catch her. He caught her hand in his, pulling her back to him, holding her back.

"I can't cry, Dylan," She said, through her sobs. "I can't do this in front of you - not anymore, at least."

"Yes, you can, Brenda," He pulled her closer, kissing her on the cheek, on the neck, gently. "I can't say anything to take away the pain. I do know I want desperately to be here for you. I know that I can be here for you, as long as you need me - longer, in fact - and that nothing short of death can stop me."

She had turned around, putting her arms around him. She didn't know why, but she knew he meant it. She had let him hold her, and they had sat down on the sand, for hours, silently, watching the crowds of people diminish slowly, until it seemed to be only them.

And saying nothing, for a little while, turned to be the best thing that Dylan could do.


	12. Bonnie and Clyde Ride Again

A swift update: the product of having nothing to do at work. Anyway, it's about time to include some other characters, don't you think? Steve, Donna, David, Kelly, Brenda, Brandon, and Dylan all star in this chapter. ALSO! Laverne momentarily cameos (hah). Think of it as Reunion Tour: Brenda and Dylan 1993... but not everyone is so happy about it. Happy reading! By the way, your reviews flatter me!

**Disclaimer: I do not own Beverly Hills, 90210 or any of its characters**

Brandon's double shift at the Peach Pit had, surprisingly, provided him with a welcome break from the hurricane of drama and woe that had been circulating around Beverly Hills in the past few days. The consistency of Nat, the aroma of fries, and the catchy, familiar Jukebox music allowed Brandon to forget, if only for a little while, the insanity that had recently taken over. Regulars filtered in like clockwork, and Steve, the perfect source of comedic relief, had eventually entered, ordered his regular, and had commenced describing his latest conquest to Brandon in great detail.

"I never thought what they said about European girls was true. Boy, was I wrong," Steve had taken a confident gulp of his coke. "You need to get in on the action. Have you even gone out with anyone since what's-her-name?"

"Nikki, Steve," Brandon had set a plate down in front of him. "Of course I've been out. There's always some girl or another. I don't want to get another girlfriend just to, you know, have someone. She has to be I don't know... special, I guess."

"And a babe," Steve had chimed in.

"Naturally, Steve," Brandon had tapped him on the shoulder and then had resumed delivering plates of food to other seated customers. At one point, he had glanced towards their regular booth in the corner, spying Donna and David nestled in the corner. He had smiled vaguely, waving to David once he looked up.

David hadn't seemed remotely friendly. He had contained something of a worried, surprised look when Brandon had waved to him. He turned back to Donna, who had looked over to Brandon as well, biting her lip anxiously.

Weird. Brandon hadn't even spoken to Donna or David much lately. He had grabbed a tattered dish rag and had gone back to where Steve was seated, glancing over to the booth once again. "What's up with them?" Brandon had said in a low tone, motioning to them with his chin.

Steve had shrugged. "I don't know. Silver's been acting kind of strange. That's why I sat over here. I think they're going through some sort of lovey-dovey couple phase or something. Bleh. Couples. Monogamy is only for the weak."

"I think it's more than that," Brandon absently wiped the counter,and watched as Donna had shrugged away from David's grasp, and had traveled to the counter.

"Hey, Brandon. When you get a chance, could you bring us two iced teas?" Donna had still looked nervous. She had not made much eye contact with Brandon, and had turned back to the booth without waiting for an answer.

"Sure thing," Brandon had looked after her, trying hard to think of the possible reasons for the awkwardness. He didn't see how there would be any reason for it, considering that he'd been so caught up with the whole Brenda-Dylan-Kelly saga. He'd barely uttered a "hi" to either of them in the past two weeks.

Steve had whistled, in that low, hushed way that signified that Brandon's point had been made. He had taken a bite of a fry, looking back towards David, who had turned to Donna again in the meanwhile.

"Maybe Silver is really some sort of cult leader. Maybe he's gotten Donna under his spell, and he's trying to hypnotize us. The next thing we know we're going to be standing on Rodeo with shaved heads, passing out packets of spiked kool-aid." Steve shuddered in jest. He grinned as Brandon laughed, almost genuinely. "Don't make any eye contact, Brandon. That's what they want you to do!"Steve had wide eyes as he gripped Brandon by the shoulder, shaking him, and then bursting into laughter, letting Brandon go, and returning to his unfinished burger.

Brandon filled two glasses with iced tea and walked to Donna and David's booth. He slid both of the glasses across the table, which attracted David's attention.

"Something going on, Silver?" Brandon had to ask. Their gazes had filled him with curiosity.

"Nope," David had said, taking the iced tea, throwing Brandon another odd look. "Why? You think there is? Because there isn't."

"Okay, okay, man. If you say so," Brandon had shrugged, glancing at Donna. She was sipping her drink, looking down at the countertop in front of her. "Anything going on with you, Donna?"

"Uh, well, no," Donna had tilted her head, glancing at him at certain intervals. "Except this is sweetened."

"Well, I'll get you a fresh, unsweetened tea," Brandon had taken her glass, still trying to think of what could possibly be the matter with them. Short of possession, Brandon was drawing a blank.

The bell on the door rang, and Brandon wasn't sure why, but he knew that something was about to happen - something that he figured probably wouldn't make things any less awkward. Sometimes he wished he worked at a less social place. Though he did love his job,the social aspect directly positioned him in the middle of things he had no business in being involved with.

"Well, hey, Kel," Brandon had heard Steve's friendly, booming voice and had suddenly felt anticipation fill his entire being. He filled up Donna's glass, struggling to keep control of it. "Haven't seen you around too much."

"I've had some things to do," Kelly's voice unnerved him completely. He tried to put off turning around to face her, but she noticed him before he could do anything to shy away from her presence. "You keeping Bran company?"

''You know it. He's bored stiff without someone of my keen intellect and riveting sense of humor keeping him awake," Steve had said jokingly. Brandon turned around, slowly, wincing, almost as if in pain.

"How you doin', Kelly?" He had feigned a smile while he delivered Donna's tea. He didn't pay attention to the look on her face.

"Great," She had taken a seat at the counter beside Steve. "How are you doing, Brandon?"

"Same old, same old," He glanced to a waitress, tagging her with his hand. "Do you think you could take Kelly's order, Lor?"

Before she had time to answer, Kelly had interjected.

"Don't you have time for an old friend, Bran?" She had said coolly. Brandon knew he had no choice, and he patted Lorie on the shoulder.

"I guess I'll take this one," He smiled faintly, dying on the inside. He placed a menu in front of her. "What can I do you for, Kelly?"

"I think I'll just take a coffee," Kelly threw him a fake smile. Brandon had discarded the pad he had started to scribble on and had reached for a mug. "So, how's Bren? She hasn't graced us with her presence much lately."

Brandon filled up her cup with black coffee. He handed her two creams, setting the steaming mug in front of her. "She's been out quite a bit lately. I haven't seen much of her either lately. I'll tell her you said 'hi' if you like."

"No, I think I'd rather tell her that in person," Kelly pursed her lips. "I think we really need to have a heart-to-heart. A girl's night, maybe."

"Girl's night, hm. Am I invited?" Steve had elbowed Kelly suggestively. Kelly had scoffed and turned her attention back to Brandon.

"I don't think that's such a good idea, okay?" Brandon was frustrated, at this point. "You know Bren. She's busy with studying for midterms and she gets a little crazy with all of it sometimes."

"Midterms aren't for another two weeks, Bran. I don't really see what she can be so busy doing," Kelly leaned towards him. Brandon eyed her, resolving to play her little game for as long as she insisted on throwing him into the mix. "Why don't you just tell me what's going on with her?"

"Because I don't know myself, Kel," Brandon didn't want to lie, but he couldn't see how telling the truth would make things any better. She already knew that Dylan and Brenda were spending almost every night together. She knew everything about everyone. "Why don't you tell me what you're doing here, Kelly? You suddenly realize you have always wanted to try Nat's coffee and think to yourself you can interrogate me about Brenda in the process?"

"Seems like you're getting awfully defensive about something you claim to not even know about," Kelly smirked.

"Woah, guys," Steve was putting himself in a dangerous position by talking at all, but he knew he needed to. "No need for hostility here. Donna and David are already acting weird. We don't need more weirdness within our already twisted little group, okay? I refuse to allow us to become a racier version of Knots Landing."

"I don't know what you're talking about, Steve," Kelly rolled her eyes, taking a sip of her coffee, still largely focusing on Brandon.

"I'm talking about the fact that our group is becoming nothing more than a group of people who have either dated, wanted to date, gone to prom together, slept together, or all of the above," Steve scoffed, "Not that the whole Brenda-Dylan-Kelly thing hasn't been fun and all."

"Oh, so much fun," Brandon squinted, "I've really enjoyed it. By the way, Kel. If you want to know what Brenda's doing so badly, you should probably turn around."

The bell clanged again and Dylan and Brenda had entered, holding hands. Kelly had vehemence in her countenance once she caught a glimpse of them. She was irate, irritated, and, being all these things at once, she had turned quite suddenly to join Donna and David. She brushed Brenda's shoulder on the way, and Brenda, who had decided days before to waste any more of her time being afraid of her, hadn't even glanced in her direction.

"I see that you've worked things out," Brandon raised his eyebrows. He smiled, and didn't know why at first. He realized, as he grabbed Steve's glass to refill it, that it was because Brenda was glowing, radiant with happiness.

Nat, who had been back in the kitchen, had emerged upon seeing Brenda and Dylan's entrance. Somewhat amazed, he approached them as they took their seats along the counter, Dylan sitting next to Steve, Brenda next to Dylan.

"Does this mean...?" Nat had been kept up-to-date by Brandon, and couldn't help but be happy that the choice had been made. Although he'd never say it, Brandon had always known Nat to root for their relationship. It was a well-known fact that being with Brenda brought out the best in Nat's young comrade.

Dylan grinned from ear-to-ear. "Yeah, if she'll have me. What do you think, Bren?" He had put his arm around her waist, kissing her neck.

"I don't know, McKay. Maybe I should ask Laverne what she thinks before I make any quick decisions," Brenda winked at Nat, who smiled in spite of himself.

"I think she'd approve,"Nat had said, shrugging, "But I don't know. Laverne is selective. I think you should buy her a megaburger just in case."

"You think?" Dylan had looked to Brenda, who had smiled coyly.

"Couldn't hurt," Brenda put on a New York accent, tweaking Dylan on the nose.

"She's convinced me," Dylan smiled at Nat, who directed Brandon to come over.

"Hope you brought your appetite," Brandon positioned his notebook on Dylan's forehead. Dylan brushed him off, still grinning widely as ever.

"Why would we come to the Peach Pit if we weren't ravenous?" Brenda smiled, leaning on Dylan's shoulder.

"Yeah, we want some grub and we want it now!" Dylan pounded his fists on the table. "Gimme all your french fries."

"You know what my favorite part of Bonnie and Clyde is?" Kelly's voice always seemed to completely changed the mood. Brenda's glow had instantaneously disappeared.

"When Blanche and Bonnie meet?" Brenda quipped innocently.

"Nope. The end," Kelly smirked, and presented her glass to Brandon, who took it without so much as glancing at Kelly. He didn't want to say anything more.

Before Steve could smartly interject, Kelly went back to Donna and David's table, saying something under her breath to them. David and Kelly exited, but Donna remained, though it seemed that Kelly wanted her to go with them. Donna, unsweetened tea in hand, had gone to Brenda's side. "Bren, do you think we could talk in private for a sec?"

Everyone had watched on as Brenda had nodded. Dylan had squeezed her hand, before she had let go.

They had gone to the hallway, where the payphone was, before Donna had spoken.

"I don't think that you and Dylan should flaunt whatever you guys have going on. It's really not fair to Kelly," She had shrugged. She'd still seemed anxious, and it made impossible for Brenda to be angry with her.

"Donna,we're not trying to flaunt anything. Couples do go places. We can't keep entirely to ourselves," _Though sometimes I think I'd prefer it that way, _she thought, not daring to speak it aloud. Brenda had glanced over to Brandon, and then to Dylan, who had both been watching, trying to get clues from her demeanor.

"Even so, it's making everything worse," Donna sounded flustered now. "Kelly is making us choose. David can't not choose her. I can't not be with David. It's making everything into more of a mess."

"It shouldn't be this way, Donna," Brenda tried to sound calm, but, in reality, she was becoming increasingly frustrated.

"But it is," Donna sighed. The horn on Kelly's beamer sounded twice. "Look, I have to go. Just remember what I said, okay?"

Brenda stood, somewhat confused, for a while after that. Dylan came over to her, pulling her into him. "You okay, Bren?"

"Yeah," She smiled. Being with Dylan could always make her forget about just about anything troubling and feel safe - from breast cancer scares to pregnancy meltdowns to her experience with a gunman to problems with her father. It never, however, could erase a feeling of impending trouble. Though, it was true, it could temporarily ease the pain, if nothing else. As he kissed her, Donna's words once again came to mind.

_Another ultimatum_, She couldn't help but think to herself. _How unbelievably perfect._


	13. And Then There Were Three

You all know that I'm a huge Brenda/Dylan fan, but I also relate to Kelly in some ways. One thing I didn't really get is that after Jackie Taylor went to rehab, her alcoholism and drug addiction didn't seem to resurface as a problem. Of course, it's a TV show, but I thought that it was strange that they never brought it up much more, especially when they highlighted Dylan's struggles with addiction so frequently. So, you will see that Kelly is not being a mega-bitch without reason. 'Tis true I do not appreciate her breaking up my favorite couple, but Kelly, like all of us, doesn't have a perfect life. She has deep emotional scars—scars that make for a juicy plotline. Anyway, we shall see what Kelly does next. As always, thank-you immensely for all of the love! Remember to review!

** Disclaimer: I do not own Beverly Hills, 90210 or any of its characters**

They sped down the highway without apparent direction. The top was down and the music was blaring. In the back, Donna was leaning on David's shoulder. They didn't dare speak to Kelly—her head was somewhere else.

It must have been around midnight. Jackie hadn't been paying too much attention to curfew lately and Kelly had used that to her advantage. These days, it wasn't easy for any of them to be home. Jackie and Mel were at each other's throats constantly. Erin would bawl, and it would only make that screaming louder. Mel had been spending late nights at the office and Jackie had been indulging in more than wine at her usual 5 o' clock cocktail hour. Of course, she had cast AA meetings to hell long before her marriage began to slowly crumble.

David reflected on it all, trying to track down where it had all gone wrong on the home front. The summer had started on a positive note. All was well with Jackie and Mel—they doted on Erin, taking her with them wherever they went, leaving her with Kelly only when they absolutely had to. It was true that Kelly had gradually changed. She was more on edge when she was sneaking around with Dylan. She became moody the more time went on. That, however, was tolerable. He could deal with a little drama on his step-sister's part. When it came to another marriage failing, however—that was a different story.

Why hadn't they expected this? They were supposed to be seasoned, worldly. Kelly was definitely a member of the tried-and-true-suffered-and-blue dysfunctional kids club. Her mom had been through countless relationships and at least two marriages. David had been through the brunt of his parents' divorce woes as well. His mother had broken down as his father had stayed later and later at the office, as the unfamiliar smell of perfume had made its way onto the marital sheets. In Beverly Hills, it was common knowledge that wedded bliss had an expiration date. That fact had seemed irrelevant, though, with their parents' romance. Perhaps it was so that hope springs eternal—but it was also true that, at some point, David and Kelly had a breaking point as to how much discord they could take without breaking down themselves.

David was holding up for the time being, but he knew that it was because he did have a constant in his life—the wonderfully normal, good-natured Donna. Who did Kelly have now that Dylan had chosen Brenda?

"My mom's going to be worried," Donna had said eventually. David had tried to keep her quiet, but he knew that an angry Felice frightened her more than an aggravated Kelly. "I don't need to get my car tonight. If you could just drop me off, that would be great."

"Here," Kelly had tossed her car phone back to Donna. "Call her. Tell her you're spending the night."

"Kel," Donna looked down, fumbling with her hands, "I've spent every night this week. She's going to think that I'm up to something. It doesn't exactly look so innocent now that David's moved in."

"Fine," Kelly had said, her voice breaking with emotion. "Do what you want, Donna. It's your choice."

There had been another bout of silence. Donna felt almost like a doormat, but she knew that Kelly was going through a major rough patch. She sighed, eyeing David, who looked straight ahead. "You know I love you like a sister, Kelly. I know you're hurting. I want to be here for you—all of us do. The thing is, I have my life too."

"Yeah, _your_ life," Kelly had scoffed. "Your perfect little life with your sober mother, your faithful father, your steady boyfriend. It's perfectly okay to discard me once you get a life for yourself. Isn't that right?"

"That isn't fair," Donna had said, before David interjected. She could tell that he was trying to hold back. His skin was turning red, his eyes blazing with intense frustration.

"Just stop it, Kelly," David had said, quietly, his vexation still under the radar. "I get that you're pissed, but taking it out on Donna? Not cool. I'm going through the same thing you are."

"Hmph," Kelly had smirked. "Jackie isn't your mom, is she?"

"She's my stepmom, Kelly. It's not like you get the brunt of it just because you're biologically linked," David was holding Donna's hand, trying to remain calm. It wasn't easy, though. Kelly knew how to work him up. She knew how to work just about everyone up. Kelly glared at him in her rearview mirror. It was an expression she had perfected lately. "Oh, don't give me that look. You know as well as I do Jackie yells at me as much as she yells at you. I might as well be her son."

"Oh, I see. Did the guy you really liked ditch you too to get back together with his old girlfriend? Did your dad run off on your family and never talk to you again? Did your best friend stop talking to you just because her boyfriend hit on you over the summer?" Kelly was droning on, and was forgetting her trail of thought in the process. David couldn't remember seeing her so sad. He couldn't remember ever seeing this side of her—the darkness, the pain, the deep sorrow. All of the sudden, though, he didn't care. She always disregarded everyone's pain except her own.

"Oh, come off it. You think you're so innocent in all of this? Dylan might have hit on you, but you accepted his advances. Dylan might have chosen you, but he and Brenda have a history together—one that you disregarded. I'll give you your props: you tried to give them space to make it work. As soon as Dylan was single again, though, you didn't waste any time," David didn't know why he was saying all these things, but the anger was almost compelling him to. The words were slipping out of his mouth like a strain of deadly molasses. He knew he was drowning in them. He couldn't stop himself, though. Not now. "Brenda and you made another choice. You gave him an ultimatum: you or Brenda. He chose Brenda. Get it through your head and stop feeling sorry for yourself."

Kelly had glared. She had put her turn light on and suddenly had jerked to the right, off to a lonely exit that wasn't well-lit in the slightest. "You little shit," Kelly had pulled over, getting out of the car, folding her arms. "How dare you take Brenda's side? How dare you? Get out of the car." Kelly's eyes were dark with fury. David eyed her, just as furiously. Donna had uncomfortable moved out of the way, trying to escape the calamity that was ensuing around her. "I said get out of the car!" Kelly raised her voice.

"Hell no," David had said quietly. He turned his head in the other direction. Kelly, now entirely vexed, had opened the door, moving past Donna, and grabbing him by the collar. He didn't know where she'd gotten the strength, but she pulled his tall, still scrawny frame, across Donna's lap and into the street.

"I told you to get out!" She shook him by the collar, but he pushed her away. She was riled up, her eyes pools of ire.

David couldn't stop the anger, the undulating rage in his chest. "Why are you doing this, Kelly? Why are you being such a bitch?"

Kelly was breathing hard, clenching her fists, still making eye contact with him. "You said you'd stick with me, David. Damn it! You told me you'd be on my side. I told you how I felt. I told you how alone I felt. I told you how Jackie was laying into me, how I felt that one night, how I almost swallowed all those pills. I told you everything, and now you're throwing it back in my face!" Her face was red, and tears were streaming down her face. David stood, looking down at the ground. The anger was disappearing, but sadness was steadily replacing it. "Why don't you just leave me out of your group? Go back to them, okay? I'm alright with it." Her voice was lower now. She ran a hand through her glossy, blonde hair. He remembered how he used to fantasize about her, how he imagined her to be the perfect girl.

Time had changed his perception of Kelly. He now knew that she wasn't perfect—because no one was. Kelly was beautiful. She had a good heart, a lovely spirit, but she was deeply scarred, and, like most others, she refused to show it. David had learned that it was often those things that you couldn't see with the naked eye that mattered the most. People often didn't see the pain in others. Even if they did, they refused to make a conscious effort to truly see it. He found that ironic, because it was the things that he couldn't see outwardly in Kelly that made him love her the most. In that moment, when he was standing there, adjacent to Kelly, he realized it was those things that were deep beneath the surface, the things that were being compensated for in one way or another, the things that were coming out in all the wrong ways in Kelly that really made someone beautiful.

"Kelly?" David had looked down at his shoes. "This isn't all about the gang or Brenda and Dylan, is it?"

"That's probably the biggest understatement of the year, David," She looked away, towards a payphone in the near distance. She sniffled, trying to wipe away her tears. Her mascara was dripping. Her lipstick, once vibrant pink, was now faded and smeared.

"I'm sorry for saying those things, Kel," David knew that Kelly could be nasty, but he also knew that he wanted to help. "There's a lot going on right now—at home, in our group, in our lives. I'm always here for you. You know that."

"I don't know that," Kelly had sighed, still crying. "I can't stand any of this. Mel and Jackie, Erin, Brenda, Dylan."

David did something sort of awkward. He had pulled her towards him, hugging her, knowing that she needed it, even if she didn't say it. She hadn't pulled away, but she hadn't returned his embrace. She had kept crying, and they had stood there, under that lonely street light, mourning together over the recent demise of their so-called lives.

"Promise me you'll stick with me, David," She finally put her hand on his back, breathing slowly, still sobbing. "I need someone on my side."

"You don't need to ask twice," He kissed her cheek, stroking her back. Even if her reason for attacking Brenda wasn't right, he had to support her. He knew that now. "It's you and me, Kel."

Donna, who had been sitting in the car, watching the scene as a passive observer, had gone to Kelly reluctantly, taking her hand. "Make it us three, Kelly." She had smiled sadly, looking at her best friend in this new light. She didn't like what she saw, but she knew that Kelly needed friends right now, more than anything.

"Us three," Kelly repeated, returning Donna's smile. "I think I like that idea."

And so it was, on an exit off the L.A. freeway, the headlights of Kelly's car still slicing through the dark smog, that suddenly there were three.


	14. Dangerous Liaisons

A quick update. Okay, so I know I'm developing the Kelly storyline a lot, but I promise next chapter is strictly Brenda/Dylan! Kelly is gaining some enemies quickly, and it's tearing the group apart. She has more than a few tricks in store, though. The drama never ceases! No worries, though. Our favorite couple has plenty of focus throughout the chapter! :) Review please!

**Disclaimer: I do not own Beverly Hills, 90210 or any of its characters (unfortunately)  
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That morning she woke up slowly, allowing her eyes to adjust to the light, letting all conscious thoughts drift through the expanse of her uncluttered head. She smiled as her trail of thought led her down a familiar path, one she had often visited in different states of mind. _Dylan._ How was it that he could always make her feel like she was a giddy sixteen-year-old?

She had laid out her outfit the day before: a simple white tube top and a black miniskirt that showed off her legs perfectly. It was what she liked—simple, clean, and sexy—something that would inevitably taunt Dylan. She didn't know why she was toying with him again. They were together and after their second reconciliation sleeping together had come smoothly and naturally. Yet, the flirting and anticipation was fun. They chased each other mercilessly, like two lovesick kids. It had been a week since their official reunion and they made each other mad with lust—making out between classes, sneaking out after school to park somewhere desolate to "talk". It was sophomore year all over again. It was exciting and new, and she couldn't think about anything else but how crazy about him she was, how in love she was with him. There was no time to talk about Kelly or flings or anything else. Nothing else mattered now that Brenda and Dylan were back for good.

She stared at herself in the mirror, and grabbed a brush from her vanity. She combed through her dark, straight, shiny hair carefully. She was primping, and she was very aware of it. She grinned to herself, thinking about how silly taking herself seriously was. For now, she might as well have been the Brenda of yesteryear.

The phone rang and Brenda sprang to answer it. "I'll get it!" She screamed into the sleepy upstairs hallway, though she knew no one else would bother to compete with her for it. "Hello?"

"Uh, yes. I'm looking for a particularly alluring, undeniably sexy patron of your establishment?" Dylan's voice was low and soft. She could tell he'd just woken up. She grinned into space.

"Je pense que tu as fait un faux numero," Brenda said in smooth, perfect French.

"Beautiful and speaks French like a Parisienne?" Brenda could easily read into the desire in Dylan's voice. "I give up. I need you here. Dans ma chambre, dans mon lit."

"Comme tu veux, monsieur. Quand?" Brenda replied, smoothly, gently.

"Maitenant," She could hear him smiling, and she knew she wanted to be there—more than anything. "Ah, Bren, you really _are_ killing me now."

"Am I?" Brenda tried to sound innocent.

"You know you are," He was still smiling; she could just tell. "So, I want to take you out tonight. I'm going all out. You better say yes, because if you don't I'm going to have to come over there and carry you out over my arm right now. Actually, I might prefer it that way." His flirtatiousness made Brenda's heart skip a beat.

"But what will my boyfriend think?" Brenda had pursed her lips, eyeing her parents' bedroom door.

Dylan paused, though she could tell he was laughing. "Too soon?"

"Too soon," Dylan repeated, laughing, "I'll see you at school, Bren." She hung up quickly, still smiling, running back to her bedroom as she heard a door creak in the distance.

A faint rap on the door warranted her undivided attention. Her brother entered with little fanfare. He had to smile when he saw her, getting ready for school like it was her first day at West Beverly all over again. "So, what are the chances that you'll be ready to go sometime within this century?"

"Mm, good question," Brenda quickly applied mascara, glancing at her brother in the mirror. "What are the chances that you'll cover for me tonight?"

"Slim to none," Brandon eyed her jokingly. "Though, Cindy's in your corner now."

"Is she?" Brenda slipped into strappy heels. She didn't know why she was acting like this, but she liked the giddiness. It was strangely exhilarating. She was excited for tonight—she couldn't even question that. "Mom has always been great through this whole Dylan thing."

"This whole Dylan thing?" Brandon smiled. "That sounds too informal. Call it what I do: 'The Brenda and Dylan Saga of the Ages'."

"Rolls off the tongue," Brenda leaned on her vanity.

"Well, I do have a knack for naming things—cars, people, random objects, relationships," Brandon sat on her bed. "Who else could come up with a quality name like Mondale for a car? Who, I ask you?"

"I can think of no other," Brenda bowed to him in jest. "You are truly the older, wiser sibling."

"You know, you haven't been the first to tell me that," Brandon grinned. Brenda elbowed him in the ribs.

As he exited the room with little more than a smile, Brenda glanced in the mirror once again. Tonight would be amazing. Tonight would be magical. Tonight would be… perfect.

* * *

><p>She had walked down the hallway with Andrea after lunch, who had gone off campus with her and Brandon. Brenda had gone to get her evening dress: a sleeveless lilac number with rows of beads running horizontally down the seams. Brandon, of course, had a much nobler pursuit: a fabulous Baja burrito with some pico de gallo. Andrea had talked endlessly about college applications, while Brenda had merely nodded, thinking about the night—she couldn't imagine thinking of anything else.<p>

As Andrea began to ask her about what schools she was interested in (which, to be honest, she hadn't thought about much at all), she had given up trying to pay attention altogether. Dylan had stood at her locker, examining her slyly.

"I guess that's my cue," Andrea had smiled, exiting the scene and leaving Brenda alone, with only her dry cleaning bag and a greasy bag with the half of the burrito Brandon had so graciously given her stuffed inside. She had forgotten she was still holding it.

"The lady bears food," Dylan had grinned as she approached the locker. "Yet, 'tis not the food I am interested in." He grabbed her waist, as the hall emptied, kissing her on the lips, then gently on the neck.

"You may eat Brandon's forgotten burrito half if you have the desire to do so," Brenda grinned, as he kissed her again, lowering his hand. "I, however, must make you wait, yet again."

"C'mon, live on the dangerous side," Dylan's hand was on her leg, creeping its way up to her thigh. "I know there's a little devilishness in you somewhere."

"Oh, it's there," Brenda ran her hands down his chest. He leaned forward, kissing her softly, running his free hand down her shoulder.

"Come with me," Dylan pleaded in her ear, biting her earlobe.

"French class waits for no man," Brenda kissed him once more, slipping her tongue in his mouth, taking her time, her hands grasping his hips. "A bientot, mon amour."

"Don't go," Dylan grasped her hand, pulling her back for another kiss. She had succumbed to him momentarily, as the second bell rang.

She pulled away, decidedly, albeit reluctantly. "I'll be here after school," Brenda winked, running her hand down his neck.

"I'm not kidding about you killing me," He looked after her, holding the burrito, opening the foil, and taking a bite out of it. "I will come and find you in that French class if you are not here in two hours. That's a promise." Dylan grinned, taking another bite of the burrito, watching her until she disappeared into a classroom down the hallway.

As he walked he caught a glimpse of Kelly in the distance. They made eye contact as she rushed down the hallway, heels clicking on the linoleum in a rhythmic pattern. Dylan looked past her, trying to avoid her gaze. She had grasped his arm, though, which had caused him to practically leap back.

"Do you and Brenda have plans for tonight?" As he broke free from her hold on his arm, he saw that the flirtatious, slightly dangerous glint was back in her eyes.

"Two words, Kelly: None ya," He pushed himself past her, though he knew she'd follow him. It was the second half of freshman year all over again.

"Oh, I think it is," Kelly walked beside him. He tried to not pay attention, but the aggravation was building up inside of him. "I don't get your attitude, Dylan. I've been trying to be nice."

"Nice? You call trying to mess up this thing I've got going with Brenda nice? I don't appreciate the phone calls. I don't appreciate the snide remarks. I certainly don't appreciate you harassing Brenda," Dylan stopped, facing her, folding his arms.

"Does she know, Dylan?" Kelly remarked through clenched teeth. "Does she know about this summer? Does she know that you pursued me, chased me like crazy?"

"Are you threatening to tell her your version of the tale?" Dylan raised his eyebrows.

"I'll try anything once," Kelly shrugged, smirking.

"I already told her, Kel, so you can give up that brilliant plan. I want you to leave her alone. I want you to walk away when you see her and I want you to hold your tongue, for once in your life, because I am personally sick of your bullshit," Dylan looked directly at her, pushing her back lightly with his fingertips, and walked away. Kelly watched as he exited out the opposite end of the hallway. He didn't look back.

* * *

><p>She had to admit that getting ready for a date in a West Beverly bathroom wasn't too glamorous. However, explaining her outfit to Jim didn't seem like her idea of fun. She could picture it now, coming out all aglow, wearing 4 inch heels and a dress he didn't approve of, coming up with a pre-packaged excuse he could see right through. She didn't agree with her father, but she knew how he thought. His disapproval wasn't something she wanted to face tonight, and she wasn't sure she wanted to face it at all. He knew where she was going and she knew he knew; what more was there to discuss?<p>

She turned her attention towards more positive things. Her outfit was perfect. She knew this from the moment she slipped on the dress. It wasn't quite short, but it didn't leave much to the imagination. It hugged her curves to a tee, emphasizing her hips, her breasts—she knew that Dylan wouldn't be able to keep his hands off of her. Her hair hung straight down her back. It was slightly teased at the bangs, and was brushed out of her eyes. She didn't know why, but she had a good feeling about this outfit—and she wasn't about to let a good feeling go to waste.

She was sitting on a closed toilet seat, applying a final touch of eyeliner, when she heard it—the cutesy, almost practiced laughter of Kelly Taylor.

Brenda instinctively pulled her legs up to her chest. The door to the stall pulled a bit, and she could see Kelly's red heels in the space underneath. After a few tugs, Kelly gave up, moving onto the next stall. Brenda raced out, turning on the sink with a start, grabbing her bag, trying to escape whatever nasty things Kelly had to say. She didn't want anything to ruin this day, the upcoming night. She couldn't have Kelly's words bouncing in her head, especially not when Donna's still were.

"You'd think Brenda would at least be civil, you know?" Kelly's words ensnared her, and, though she tried, she couldn't leave without listening in to the conversation.

A voice she didn't recognize answered. "It's Dylan McKay, Kel. Haven't they been going out for like years? Besides, I've heard that girl has a flare for drama. Why would you expect anything else?"

"I don't know. I guess I just expected some loyalty. I mean, everyone knows Dylan has always had a thing for me. Why wouldn't he act on it when Bren was out of town? I hardly blame him," Kelly's voice was filling Brenda's heart with hate, with dread for what had to happen next. She knew that she was getting sucked in to something that she shouldn't have been, but it was hard to stop from hurting when the words were slicing through her like knives.

Kelly emerged from the stall, looking straight into her eyes. She realized they hadn't talked in a while—not, at least, about anything that mattered. The words that she had spent so long not saying, prisoner in her own head, had spilled out instantaneously, "Dylan has _never_ had a thing for you, Kelly. In fact, during our relationship he hardly ever wanted to be around you. I know you're into yourself, but, trust me, not everyone else around you is by default. People think you're superficial. People think you're shallow, vain, arrogant, and slutty. I'm no stranger to gossip. I know they say things about me too. The thing that hurts the most, though, is that you're spreading lies. You're spreading hate. I never did that to you, Kelly. I never was anything but a good friend to you." Brenda glanced at Kelly's friend, who was now examining her reflection in the mirror. "These people you hang out with… They're the ones that say things about you the most. I think it's so terrible that you abandon the people that want to be there for you and pal around with the ones that secretly loathe you. Yeah, I know about this summer. Yeah, I was really mad at Dylan. What he did with you, it was stupid. I don't think you came on to him, but I trusted you, Kelly. I trusted you with everything, because I confided in you about everything, especially my feelings about Dylan. You may think this is some kind of big game, but people's feelings aren't playthings. I would appreciate it if you kept that in mind."

Brenda saw the frozen look on Kelly's face, the surprised look on her fashion victim friend's. "Nice dress," The friend muttered dumbly to Brenda, as she walked to the door.

"Thank-you," Brenda opened the door with the heel of her shoe. "How nice of you to compliment the enemy."

As she walked out of the door, she felt somewhat stung. The perfection of the evening hadn't been entirely lost, but Kelly's face, her words—it had all reminded her of old times, when things had been less complicated.

As she approached the bend that her locker was located on, she saw him, standing, smiling into the distance, decked out in a tux, holding in his hand 5 white roses and 5 red roses, tied together with a white and black ribbon. She caught a glimpse of a surfer necklace he was wearing, and the shiny sterling silver half of a heart almost made her cry on the spot.

She reached to touch her own half that was attached to the charm bracelet she now wore, that she had acquired during their momentary break-up. She hadn't ever had the nerve to take the heart off—to not keep it with her wherever she went. So, she had hidden it, among other things, knowing that it was always there. It was a comfort, a reminder of the love that she had found, lost, and found once again.

He had finally turned towards her, looking her up and down, mesmerized. He'd met her halfway, handing her the flowers. He kissed her on the cheek, and then on the lips. She didn't know why, but she had examined his half of the heart. Maybe she needed to validate whether or not it was real. She touched it, holding it inside her palm.

"You're beautiful, Brenda Walsh." He kissed her again. "Inside and out."

"You're no slouch either, Dylan McKay," She put her hand in his hair, though she was scarcely tall enough to reach.

"I made reservations at Dante's," He said, his hand clutching one hip. "I hope you're in the mood for Italian."

"You have no idea how in the mood I am," She kissed him softly, sucking on his bottom lip, her hand on his cheek.

He kissed her back, his hands now seizing her waist. "I don't know if I can make it through dinner, Bren. You, that dress, those legs," His hand was slowly making its way to her thigh.

"Well, if you can't I guess we'll just have to improvise," Brenda winked, taking his hand, pulling him along.

Brandon, who had been around the corner, had laughed as they had run off together. "Try to contain yourself, kids."

Brenda had glanced back, grinning. Brandon had returned her smile, waving her off, seeing them off until they disappeared out the door.

He turned his head, just slightly. The sight of her wasn't surprising, but the look on her face was new and very different. She held his gaze. Brandon, though he had refused to speak to her for the past week, had walked up to her, if only to allow Brenda and Dylan the time alone.

"Come to chew me out, Bran?" Kelly said bitterly. She walked down the hallway, in the direction of her locker. "It's apparently the thing to do."

Brandon had walked beside her. "Are you feeling particularly hostile today or am I just special?"

"Don't act like you don't see it," Kelly had scoffed. "Don't act like you don't see Brenda and Dylan waltzing around here, so in love, so happy."

"Would you rather they sneak around behind your back, Kel?" Brandon's frustration always could be lured into the open by Kelly. The very blood in his veins seemed to boil. "Would that make you happier? Would that make everything all better?"

"No," Kelly stopped, practically screaming, "Dylan was supposed to choose me, Brandon. This whole school knows that."

"Oh, I'm sorry. I forgot that you're too perfect to turn down, Kelly," Brandon's voice was hushed, but obviously strained by emotion. "My sister is better than you'll ever be."

"Brenda, Brenda, Brenda. That's all I hear from you people. Why do you idolize her so much? It's like she can do no wrong. Brenda isn't so noble, Brandon," Kelly eyed him viciously.

"Shut up, Kelly," He knew that their scene was attracting the masses, but he didn't even pretend to care. He could see Donna on the sidelines, David watching from his booth. "For once, shut up. Dylan chose Brenda. Get over it and stop moaning to anyone who'll listen."

"You don't know what you're messing with, Walsh," Kelly was still gazing at him furiously. "I own this school. You and I both know that."

"No. You don't own this school. You only think you do," Brandon pointed at her with one finger, trying to understand how she could possibly rile him up like this. It wasn't part of the plan.

"You and your sister are going to be so sorry," Kelly shook her head.

"Oh, I'm sure," Brandon smirked. "Actually, I'm already sorry—for ever bothering to call you a friend." He walked away, his head pounding. Steve fell into step beside him eventually, and so did Andrea. The three of them walked down the hallway, as Kelly watched, beside herself with resentment.


	15. Feels Like the First Time

Here is the promised _strictly _Brenda/Dylan chapter. I really enjoyed writing this; they are my two favorite characters, as you very well know, and their dialogue is always very witty and fun, always laced with flirtation and seriousness at the same time. Anyway, I will not say anything more! I love how you guys are reviewing regularly; it helps me know how you want to see the story play out, and which characters' behaviors are not really working for you. Feel free to express to me any suggestions on the Kelly storyline; I haven't fully developed it, so I'm 100% able to incorporate your ideas into the story! Enjoy the B/D action and, as always, review!

**Disclaimer: I do not own Beverly Hills, 90210 or any of its characters!**

The drive to Dante's was slow, but enjoyable. They had taken the back roads for a little while, opting for a more scenic route to downtown L.A. They had laughed freely, the salty sea air and the warm wind erasing any lingering negative feelings that they had carried into the trip. It was strangely reminiscent of old times.

Dylan found himself examining Brenda at different intervals. He could vividly recall their first meeting and how drawn he had felt towards her, how captivated he had been by her shy, unassuming demeanor, by her innocence and youthful, pretty features. She still had the same prettiness, the same underlying good-natured innocence. Two years, however, had changed a lot. Brenda was much different, even in appearance. Her beauty had matured significantly. She had gone from a pretty girl to a striking young woman—a striking young woman that Dylan could never seem to get out of his head.

Her eyes were transfixed on the road during one of these glances. Her profile showed off her long lashes, her chiseled cheekbones, the pout of her glossy lips. His eyes traveled down the length of her body, to her white, smooth thigh. He bit his lip slightly, a jolt running through his body. He briefly considered pulling over on the side of the road, but quickly decided against it. He was having a hard time controlling himself tonight, but he knew he had to. Tonight wasn't about sex—though he'd figured it could very well be a possibility. Tonight was about Brenda. It was about him and Brenda, and celebrating a relationship worth fighting for.

"You're thinking about something," Brenda smiled, looking down at her lap. "I can tell."

"You're right about that, Bren," Dylan and Brenda had locked eyes. How Brenda could meld together the art of seduction and her innate purity in one single glance had always amazed him.

Her eyes were still on him as he turned his gaze back to the road. He grinned. "You're unreadable sometimes, Dylan, and my mind reading skills are rusty at best."

"All the more reason to put them into practice," Dylan reached for her hand, stroking her thumb, as he steered with one hand. "How about it? Take a wild guess."

"You're debating whether to spring for the Carbonara or stick with the Chicken Parmesan," Brenda squinted, putting her finger on her cheek as though she was deep in thought. "The food ultimatum is getting the best of you, and you think the Carbonara is winning, but then-."

"Although I do love food, you're off the mark, Bren," He took her hand in his, pulling it up to his lips, kissing it, and then glancing towards her in that sultry, naturally seductive way of his.

"Are you thinking about us?" Brenda asked, although she already knew the answer. Her lips were open, and she was leaning closer to Dylan.

"I think we have a winner," Dylan stroked her hand, looking to her once more. "You haven't left my mind all day, Bren." He searched her eyes; their warmth was always evident. "I'm going to let you in on a little secret. You're amazing. I think I've always known that about you—even when things weren't exactly stellar between us."

Brenda smiled weakly. She stared out the window, wondering why she was suddenly so sad. "You know, when I broke up with you, I never thought anything could hurt so deeply. I thought that maybe being separated from you was the most painful thing I could ever experience. It wasn't, though."

Dylan still held her hand, studying her with those deep, soulful eyes, the ones that always seemed to convey the fact that he understood her, better than anyone else, regardless of where their relationship stood. She could tell that he was waiting for her to finish.

"When I realized what when on this summer, I knew I was so wrong. I had never experienced devastation until I was piecing it all together," Brenda exhaled, turning back to him. "I'm so in love with you, Dylan—but allowing myself to be in such a vulnerable position again, it's scary."

"I know," Dylan glanced at her, almost pained, breaking the gaze only to focus back on the road. "I know you have no reason to trust me; you have every right in the world to be scared, but I don't want you to be, because if there's anything that these last few weeks has taught me it's how much I love you—how much I'm _in love _with you."

"Why with me? Why not with Kelly?" She couldn't stop herself from asking. She needed validation. Kelly's words had hurt her— more deeply than she thought they could, anyway.

"Because—," He gazed at her, his eyes determined, passionate, "You're the only one I trust, the only one I love wholeheartedly. As corny as it sounds, you're the first person I think about when I get up and I always fall asleep thinking about you. When I'm with you, nothing else matters. My crazy parents, my alcoholism, all the hurt and all the pain, it's gone. I forget about the world when I'm with you because we've somehow managed to create our own. I love you, only you—and I want to be with you, even though we have fights, even though our relationship isn't perfect."

She didn't respond. He saw a tear run down her cheek. "What's wrong?" He had a sort of childish way of asking her it, almost as if he was afraid.

She suddenly grinned, glancing at him, the track marks from her tears still visible on her face. "Nothing. I just suddenly feel sixteen again… and it's more wonderful than you can imagine."

"I sometimes wish we could go back to being sixteen," Dylan placed his hand on her cheek, caressing her quickly, but tenderly. He smiled, gently. There was warm, almost tender silence. "Do you remember visiting me in the hospital after I wiped out that one time, Bren?"

"How could I forget?" Brenda smiled, her blue eyes shining. She could recall the longing in his eyes, how he had reached out for her, how she had wanted so badly to let down her guard—but couldn't. "The time you almost died and had only one thing to say for yourself."

"It _was _awesome," Dylan grinned. "I never told you why, though."

Brenda paused, obviously interested in whatever he had to say. "Why?"

"In that split second, right before I blacked out, I saw us, together again. I knew it'd be okay—I knew we'd be okay." Dylan and Brenda made eye contact. How was it that he could always make everything alright again with a simple glance in her direction?

"Dylan?" She looked at him, softly. "Before I met you, I didn't think people like you existed. I know you may not believe it, but you're incredible—and I feel stupid for not realizing someday someone would swoop in on you when they realized just how amazing you really are."

"Kelly didn't swoop in on me because I was amazing, Bren," Dylan met her gaze, trying to be as gentle as he could. "I swooped in on Kelly because she was there—and I think, in a weird way, I thought she could replace you, make me feel okay again. Then I realized, she couldn't; you're the only one who can. You're the only one who sees me for who I really am."

"I sure hope so," Brenda leaned in to him, kissing him, touching his cheek. She wasn't bothered by the things he said about Kelly anymore, because she knew, in her heart of hearts, that Dylan McKay had fought the mental battle in his head and recommitted to her… as unlike Dylan as that sounded.

"I know so." Dylan smiled, and watched, rather mischievously, as she leaned back in her seat. "I love you, Brenda."

"And I love you, Dylan," She grinned, leaning back to him and planting kisses on his neck.

Dylan grinned. "You're going to get me going, Bren, and we all know how that's going to end."

"Don't I ever," She smiled, her voice breathy. Dylan stroked her hair with his free hand, and smiled, once again. As Brenda kissed him, repeatedly, moving down to his collarbone, he groaned, eyeing her with a wicked glint in his eye.

"You are just asking for it, Bren," Dylan tilted his head, noting that the road was almost entirely traffic free.

Brenda stopped, gazing at him slyly. "What are you going to do about it?"

"Oh, you'll find out soon enough," He kissed her again, pulling her closer.

Dylan slid his hand around her, and drove, for the remainder of the time, in that very position, wishing desperately that he was closer to his house.

* * *

><p>The night air in Los Angeles was surprisingly clear, almost clean. It was warm and it seemed to beckon the spring season. They had eaten outside, talking about everything and nothing at all. Brenda told Dylan about her recitation of Byron in English Lit; Dylan had begun to talk about his dad. He always could pour out his every emotion to Brenda and he knew that she'd always understand—that was perhaps what he loved most about her. She could understand everything, because, in a strange sort of way, Dylan McKay and Brenda Walsh were made of the same fiber, the same substance.<p>

They had decided to take a walk after dinner—perhaps it more for Brenda's sake than his. For some reason, she had become apprehensive as the dinner wound to its close. He couldn't blame her; the possibility of a phone call or visit from Jim scared him shitless. He couldn't say that he didn't need the air as well. Thinking about Jim always caused Dylan's thoughts to drift towards the subject of his own father.

He grabbed a hold of Brenda's hand after a little spell of silence, looking to her eyes once she glanced in his direction.

"Can I ask you something, Bren?" He had smiled like a little kid. Brenda loved that childish aspect of his personality, for some reason. It always gave her a glimpse into his soul, a glimpse most people never bothered to examine.

"Only if you want an honest answer," Brenda stroked his hand with her thumb, still looking up at him. Her eyes were full of curiosity.

Dylan paused, smiling to himself, and then looking down. "What do you really think of my dad?" He met her gaze again, and she could tell, almost immediately, that he was searching for some sort of validation.

Brenda looked down now, in the midst of thought. "I've always thought your dad was pretty self-centered, Dylan. I guess I feel a little protective towards you, with your parents. It's never made any sense to me how either one of them can senselessly abandon their son." She stopped him, reaching up to touch his face. "Especially a son as wonderful as you."

Dylan kissed her, putting his arms around her waist. He squinted, as he always did when he was trying to understand something. "Brenda, you're still the only one I trust. You know that, don't you?"

Brenda smiled, running the palm of her hand lightly across his cheek once again. "As much as I'm flattered by that, I won't be threatened by you letting your dad in. Dylan, you've waited a long time for your dad to have a change of heart," Brenda stroked the back of his neck, and then placed one hand on his chest. "Maybe he has, maybe he hasn't. The fact of the matter is, he's here for once, and he's trying. That counts, if only a little bit. A little bit is a start, though. Don't shut him out because you're afraid, Dylan. Be cautious, but don't be afraid."

"I'm never afraid," He kissed her lightly on the forehead. "Because there's always you."

"Yeah, there's always me," Brenda grinned, her head tilted. "Even if you can't stand me living in your house for more than two days."

Dylan grinned, in spite of himself. They continued walking, Dylan's arm wrapped around her waist. "Hey, I offered for you to move in again, didn't I? I miss my own personal Susie Homemaker," Dylan teased.

"Yeah, well, I think I lost my nesting instinct in Paris," Brenda winked at him.

"Well, right now nothing sounds hotter to me than you in an apron—and nothing else," When Brenda walked ahead of him, he pulled her back. She had smiled briefly, biting her tongue.

"Don't tell me you've outgrown that whole 'I-don't-live-by-a-schedule-and-won't-be-held-accountable-by-anyone' thing?" Brenda placed a hand on his waist. She couldn't figure out how in the world he could manage to look serious.

"I'm saying that in the future, I might want a schedule _and_ someone to be held accountable to," Dylan playfully slipped his hand down to her butt, grabbing it, and grinning slyly, "Especially one with an ass like this."

"Well, maybe I'm not the settling kind anymore," Brenda raised one eyebrow jokingly.

"You've got to be kidding me, Bren. Your mother is the 90's answer to June Cleaver," Dylan cocked an eyebrow, pulling her into him.

"Yeah, and my father is Jim Walsh," Brenda stuck out her tongue.

"Maybe it was the milkman—maybe one with a dangerous glint in his eye, the kind of guy that just makes you swoon. I have a feeling that you Walsh women occasionally veer onto the wild side." Dylan grabbed both of her hands, sliding them towards him.

"Yeah? Well, I'm sure Brandon would be delighted to hear you say that." Brenda had smiled, though she had attempted to be serious. Dylan had smoothly kissed her, and, though it had taken her by surprise, she had kissed him back. They were venturing to the point of no return. She knew that well.

Once she had pulled away, Dylan had kept her close. She knew very well what he was leading up to; his lips were tilted towards her, signifying that he wasn't finished—not in the slightest. "What do you say we go to some place a little more private?"

"I just had the strangest sensation of déjà vu," Brenda squinted, pursing her lips. "You saying what I think you're saying?"

"If the shoe fits-," Dylan had grinned as he finally managed to lure Brenda back into his arms.

Brenda searched for something nondescript in his eyes. "Let's shine on this place, then." She said, her voice almost breathy.

Dylan had thrown her a huge grin, and she had shyly displayed her own eager grin. "I was hoping you'd say that," Dylan had grabbed her hand, and they had ran to the car, together.

* * *

><p>They had pulled up to the driveway, hastily. Dylan had immediately gotten out of the car, opening Brenda's door, pulling her into his arms. "You are the biggest tease I know," Dylan had swung her around, as she had begun to unbutton his jacket.<p>

"You love it," Brenda had whispered into his ear.

Dylan had put her down, pushing her against the car, pressing her down onto the hood. Brenda had pressed against both of his shoulder, slipping the jacket off of his shoulders. He had thrown his jacket onto the pavement, as he maneuvered his lips across her skin, from her mouth to her neck to her breasts.

"Dylan, your neighbors," She had whispered.

"Don't matter," Dylan had smiled mischievously, lying on top of her. "But if you insist."

Brenda had reached into his front pocket, fishing out the keys, and running to the door as he rose to his feet.

"Come here," Dylan had motioned her to come forward, desire seamlessly etched into his light brown eyes.

"You have to catch me first," Brenda had smiled, hurrying to unlock the door, before she hurried inside. She had dropped the keys upon her arrival. Candles were lit throughout the room, although some had burnt out and some were burning low.

As Dylan had shut the door behind him, grabbing her waist and pulling her towards him, Brenda had still stared at the room with wide eyes.

"We took a little longer than I expected," Dylan buried his head in the crook of her neck, kissing her tentatively.

"Hm, so you thought I'd be so easy to convince?" Brenda had faced him, both of her hands on his chest, now unbuttoned to reveal a portion of his bronzed skin.

"Perhaps I overestimated my charm," Dylan had swaggered closer, taking her hands in his.

"Maybe not," Brenda kissed him, gently. He had pulled one of her legs up so that it rested on his hip. He had kissed her again, his pulse growing quick and her breath getting heavier, more desperate. "You're cute, Dylan," She said between kisses. "_Really _cute."

"And you, Signorina Walsh, are _really_ beautiful," He had gazed at her another moment, before their lips met again, more passionately than before. He had taken her other leg in his hand, so that she was braced on his hips. His shirt had been the first thing to go, crumpled on the floor near the entrance. They had, by some miracle, made it to his bed, where candles encircled the surrounding area.

She had ended up on top of him, and he, desperate for more skin at this point, had pulled her dress off, sliding it over her head. "I love you," He had smiled sincerely as he had unhooked her bra. She had sat briefly on top of him, unbuttoning his pants as he gazed at her, mesmerized.

She had pulled his pant legs down, until they were on the floor. She put both of her hands on his chest, running them up his chest, until she was parallel to him again. "I love you too, Dylan."

He had pulled himself on top of her, kissing her neck, and then removing her final article of clothing. "You ready?" He had kissed her, eyeing her confidently.

"Yeah," She'd barely been able to utter due to breathlessness.

He caught her lips once again, and the space between them had collapsed, one figure becoming undistinguishable from the next.


	16. A Simple Twist of Fate

This chapter includes a little one-on-one time with Brandon's thoughts. I thought it would be important to reveal what he really thinks of Kelly and so on. Also, there's a little Brenda/Dylan action and there will be more, rest assured! I'm glad you guys liked last chapter and please continue to let me know exactly what you think. I know a little bit more of where I'm going with this, so stick with me :).

**Disclaimer: I do not own Beverly Hills, 90210 or any of its characters**

Brandon had pulled into the driveway at around 1 in the morning. As he had trudged up to the door, he had massaged his temples, hoping that everyone was in bed already. He didn't know why, but he was in a particularly foul mood.

Perhaps it had begun earlier that evening, when an ill-fated Friday night plan hatched by Steve had ended with a familiarly unpleasant twist.

"C'mon, Bran! Where's your sense of adventure? We have a double date with _twins_—twins! Double the pleasure," Steve had eyed Brandon in that mischievous, determined way of his. Brandon had shrugged, gone along with his plan, and after a dinner at a swanky, upscale restaurant had been left somewhere along the way by Steve, who had driven off in his 'stang with the twins in tow.

Brandon had almost expected something like that to happen, but it had dampened his spirits considerably. He had almost always had some sort of love interest. There was always someone on the sidelines, someone that he had his eye on, or someone that was after him. A dry spell was something very foreign to Brandon Walsh indeed.

His mother had been sitting on the couch, in a pink robe, reading a book he could almost be certain was an excuse to wait up for him and his sister. He almost smiled—it was cute the way she watched out for them. However, it didn't erase the lingering feeling of emptiness that Brandon had that evening. She looked up as he entered, noting his sour expression.

"Please tell me it's me and not Brenda that you're waiting for," Brandon groaned.

Cindy closed her book, looking down at her wrist. "She said she'd be home between 1 and 1:15, so she has some time. She told me that she had special plans for tonight with Dylan—and I figured since your father is in Chicago for the weekend, she might as well take advantage of the moment."

Brandon sighed, throwing a glance in his mother's direction. "How long is this going to go on, mom? To be honest, I'm awfully tired of pretending like their relationship is some big secret in front of dad."

"Your father might take some time to cool down," Cindy stood up, walking towards the kitchen. She wouldn't say it out loud, but Brandon knew, deep down, that the rift between Brenda and his dad was creating stress for her too. "For right now, the Dylan subject has to lay low—for Brenda's sake and for our sake." She watched Brandon as he entered the kitchen, plopping down on a stool situated along the island.

"The problem with keeping a low profile is that we're talking about Brenda and Dylan—masters of subtlety they are not. They have to be together, all the time; plus, they can't keep their hands off of each other," Brandon scrunched his nose up as he opened the cabinet and reached for a bowl. "Dad walks into the Peach Pit, and there they'll be, holding hands, making out in a booth, staring into each other's eyes like the rest of the world doesn't exist. Dad decides to go to the beach, and there they are, rolling around in the sand. I can just picture the blowout now."

"It's not as if your father doesn't already know that they're spending time together," Cindy reached for a bowl out of the cabinet herself. She then went to the freezer, taking out rocky road ice cream and placing it on the island. "He just doesn't want to think about it. If he pushes it out of his mind, it's almost like it's not happening."

"Well, that's not going to work for long," Brandon took off the lid of the ice cream canister, taking the ice cream scooper from Cindy, "and I really don't want to be around when dad realizes Dylan's not going anywhere."

Cindy shrugged, waiting for Brandon to dish out a scoop of ice cream into her bowl. "Having two obstinate Walshes in the house does create problems, Brandon—but all I want is for Brenda to be happy and for your dad to stay level-headed about this all. Unfortunately, that has to happen on his own time."

The door gently opened, and Brenda came inside, Dylan shortly behind her. Brandon watched as Brenda tore away from his tight grasp, and how Dylan watched her as she walked into the kitchen. There was something about his gaze as he focused on Brenda—it changed, made his face glow with something Brandon couldn't quite identify.

"1:13, right on schedule," Cindy smiled, as Brenda walked to the island, Dylan shortly behind her. He pulled her to him from behind lightly. Brandon turned in their direction, smiling, though he had formerly complained about their affection. They were good together—better than they ever were apart, he thought, thinking about Brenda's sadness over their break-ups, and Dylan's anger and underlying sadness.

"You kids have fun tonight?" Brandon patted Dylan on the back, and Dylan gave him a sly look.

"Loads," Brenda grinned in Brandon's direction. "Fabulous food and some alright company to boot."

"Alright?" Dylan eyed her, raising his eyebrows. Cindy smiled, dishing out two scoops into Brandon's bowl.

"Well, maybe the company was slightly better than alright," Brenda smiled at him, turning her head to kiss him.

They kissed once again, before she pulled away to get a spoon for herself. Brandon had been about to take a bite of his ice cream, when she scooped some out of his bowl for herself.

"Hey," He looked at her, beating his chest with an open hand, "Do you have any sense of personal property? Feel free to help me out at any time, D."

"Don't look at me, boss." Dylan shrugged, playfully. "This little lady's got a mind of her own."

"You know, I wasn't aware that you owned the ice cream, Brandon," Brenda grinned, eating her spoonful and returning to Dylan's side. He slipped an arm around her, kissing her for a long moment.

"Tastes good," He gave her a flirtatious look, biting his lip. Brandon turned away, feigning disgust.

"C'mon, do something, mom! Turn the hose on them—or," Brandon took a bite of his ice cream, trying to think, "Something!"

Cindy smiled at Dylan and then at Brenda, who gave her brother a pretended dirty look. "Take it easy, you two. We're going to scare him off."

"You Walsh people couldn't scare me off if you tried," Dylan looked at Cindy, his eyebrows still raised. "Try as you may."

"We're very glad to have you back, Dylan," Cindy put a hand on his shoulder. "Brandon is too, even though he might not show it."

"I'm a real man, guys. We don't have emotions," Brandon finished up his ice cream.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Brenda smirked at him. "You're really an old softee at heart, Bran."

Dylan smiled, and then turned to Cindy, obviously on a more serious note. "Mrs. Walsh, I know this is last minute and everything, but I wanted to ask if Brenda could join my father and me at something of a dinner party tomorrow. He's got a surprise for us; he won't even tell us where it is, but he made it a point to invite Brenda along."

He saw Cindy's cautiousness, and spoke again, trying to address her concerns. "Before you give us an answer, I'll have her home by 12:30 and I promise to not let her out of my sight. Brenda would be excellent moral support; I never really know when my dad will just turn on me."

Cindy looked at Dylan hesitantly, and then at Brenda. "You know what your father would say, Brenda. I want you to realize I'm saying 'yes' only because I know Dylan needs the support. Your father is to know nothing of it. That means no slips, not from you, not from Brandon." Cindy looked at him very seriously.

"My lips are sealed," Brenda dragged two fingers across her lips in a zipper motion.

Brandon nodded, "As long as it doesn't entail me watching these two make eyes at each other all night."

Brenda walked over to Brandon and hit him in the ribs in jest. Brandon glared at her and then laughed as Cindy folded her arms, giving them a knowing look. "What? He was asking for it, mom!"

"You two sleep well and try not to kill each other by morning," Cindy walked towards the staircase. "Goodnight, Dylan. I'm happy for you… and your dad—just so you know." She gave him a motherly smile, and climbed the stairs.

Brandon put his dish in the sink, running the faucet, and then walking towards the stairs. "I will see you tomorrow morning, oh loving sister and my very own McKay. Goodnight, lovebirds." He raised his eyebrows, running up the stairs as Brenda walked towards Dylan, yet again.

They didn't say anything for a minute. Dylan wrapped his arms around Brenda's waist, and hugged her, kissing her on the forehead. "I had a really good time tonight," He said, looking into her eyes. "I've missed having you to myself."

"I've missed having you to myself, Dylan," Brenda ran her hand down his cheek. "You have no idea how much."

He smiled, softly. "What do you say we have an old-fashioned you-and-me day tomorrow? We can rent old movies, maybe order in, and do some of this," He began to kiss her neck, "I promise I'll make it worth your while."

"Sounds like a plan," Brenda looked down, and then up into his eyes. They kissed, Dylan pulling her closer to him. "Can I ask you a silly question?"

Dylan smiled, squinting, leaning down to her eye level, "For a price."

"All that stuff about maybe wanting someone to be accountable to someday? Were you kidding?" Brenda searched his eyes, looking for hesitance that she could not find.

"Bren, how often have I told you something I didn't mean?" Dylan said, his voice hoarse and low. "I think that we have a real shot at something that could last for a long time—maybe even for a lifetime. I can't imagine a world where you don't exist. I love you, Brenda Walsh, and I'm not afraid to say that I want to be with you."

Brenda didn't say anything. She put her arms around his neck, and kissed him, tenderly. "Another question: Who are you and what have you done with the real Dylan?"

Dylan looked up, as if he was trying to search for some relic of his old self thoroughly. "It is me, in here, somewhere, but an improved version. Your brother has been a good influence, Bren. You two make me want to be better," Dylan stroked her back, and walked towards the door, grasping Brenda hand. "We can resume this conversation at a more reasonable hour. I'll see you tomorrow, Bren. Sweet dreams." He pulled her towards him, dipping her down for a kiss.

As he exited, Brenda leant back on the door, her knees momentarily buckling. She thought back to what seemed like years ago—the Palm Springs weekend from hell that ended with Dylan and Brenda, stargazing on the pool-front patio.

"Well, hey, little lady, we'll take it one step at a time." It echoed in her head as she mounted the staircase. She never thought those next steps would come—a relationship for Dylan, after all, seemed like commitment enough on his terms. The steps were coming, though—perhaps not in the way she hoped they would, but they were coming.

When she had opened the door to her bedroom, she had found Brandon lying on her bed, staring at the ceiling.

"See something interesting?" Brenda smiled, walking to the edge of the bed.

"Just my love life, blown into pieces and smithereens—in my imagination, at least," Brandon sighed. He took a basketball from his side and began to toss it into the air. "You would think that I would have expected this from going on a double date with Steve, but I guess I got taken off-guard. I haven't been on my best game, anyway."

"Well, I guess that means it's time for me to intervene," Brenda sat down, moving his feet aside. "The Brenda Walsh Matchmaking Agency is open for business."

"Oh God no," Brandon looked at her with startled eyes.

"C'mon, Brandon," Brenda pouted, "It will make me so happy."

"Since when has your happiness had anything to do with my dating life?" Brandon sat up and rested against her headboard, trying to make sense of the glow that emanated off of Brenda.

"Because I want to see you happy," Brenda looked at him and grinned sincerely. As she rose from her place on the bed, he glanced at the ceiling again, trying to empty his head of all thoughts.

"Well, I'll settle for one of us being happy," Brandon folded his arms, studying Brenda. "He really means it this time, huh?"

She nodded, glancing at Brandon. "I think he does. It's weird. Commitment has never seemed something that Dylan was that keen on. I get this feeling, though, that it's not out of the question anymore. All I know is that our relationship is so different this time around. He was mentioning how maybe, someday, he'd want to be accountable to someone—and he seemed to specifically mean me."

Brandon was somehow shocked. "You think he means it?"

"I can never tell," Brenda walked into the bathroom, turning on the light. "But maybe. Nothing is ever out of the question, I guess."

"Promise me something, Bren," Brandon raised himself off of Brenda's bed and walked to the bathroom himself.

Brenda glanced at him, taking a cotton swab and dabbing her eyes with it. "Promise you what?"

"That you won't put us through another 'I'm moving in with Dylan because my parents just don't understand me' fiasco." Brandon watched her, his eyes filled with concern.

"Bran, I think I've learned from my ways by now," Brenda smiled into her reflection. "Besides, when college starts, I will be my own woman—free of the chains that bind me to Casa Walsh and dad, for that matter."

"And this is the girl I'm considering entrusting my dating life to?" Brandon brushed past her, into his own room, throwing her one more glance. "You should know you'll never be free of us. We're like an incurable disease."

"So I've noticed," Brenda grinned brightly, pushing her brother lightly with her hands. "Goodnight, Brandon. I happen to think your dating life is in very good hands." Brenda closed the bathroom door, and Brandon was left alone with his thoughts.

His eyes wandered to his desk, where his light still shone, illuminating Kelly's old note that he should have thrown away days ago. Silly, how he was still thinking about the words they'd said earlier that day. Silly, how he still cared at all.

It was truly funny how one action could change everything. If Kelly had gone to Paris instead of Brenda, the love triangle from hell would have never happened. If Brenda hadn't gone to the Bel Age the night of Dylan's father's release, it might very well have been Kelly on Dylan's arm.

As Brandon climbed into bed, and closed his eyes he couldn't help but think that perhaps he made a mistake with Kelly the night of Spring Fling. A simple twist of fate, the tiny adjustment of a moment—it sure could change just about everything.


	17. Sisters of a Different Kind

Hey guys! So, this is a long chapter for me, and it has a lot going on. What kind of things are going on? Well, I guess you'll just have to read for yourself! One thing is absolutely certain, though: something is up with Kelly and it's causing her to act... well, a little crazy - especially towards Brenda. Throw Brenda's take-no-shit attitude into the mix and Brandon's well-meaning defensiveness and you get drama - and lots of it! Read and review. Thank-you guys for being so supportive and honest! I hope you like this chapter. Let me know what you think!

**Disclaimer: I do not own Beverly Hills, 90210 or any of its characters**

A sharp knock on her door woke her up with a start. She had, at first, rolled to the side, telling herself it was only her imagination, but it only became louder. She glanced at her alarm clock. The bold, red letters clearly stated 6:15. She sighed, sitting up in bed, switching on the lamp on her nightstand. Her eyes stung as they became accustomed to the light. She rose out of bed, groggy, her vision still rendering objects blurry.

"What?" Brenda had opened her bedroom door with a yawn. She had expected it to be her mother—perhaps even Brandon, up early for one of his shifts at the Pit. She had been genuinely surprised to see Donna, outfitted in a silk robe and slippers.

"Your brother told me once where the extra key was," Donna was bashful and almost avoided Brenda's gaze altogether. "I hope you don't mind me waking you up so early."

"No," Brenda uttered, still barely awake. "I'm just a little surprised—that's all."

Donna entered her room when Brenda opened the door to a wider angle. As she stepped into Brenda's room, she noted the picture of Dylan and Brenda the night of the Spring Fling, the Bonnie and Clyde Halloween picture, and the picture of Kelly, Brenda, and her at Hello Day, still sitting upright in its position—she hadn't been surprised by the first two, but the fact that Brenda still even displayed a picture of Kelly in her room had seemed incomprehensible, considering the drama as of late.

"Listen," Donna began, after a moment of awkward hesitation, "I've been thinking a lot about what I said to you at the Peach Pit the other night, and it wasn't fair." Donna sat down on Brenda's unmade bed. "I actually was thinking about it all night, and I woke up this morning, at Kelly's house, and I realized I had to tell you that you're one of my best friends, and that's never going to change."

"Donna," Brenda had smiled, sitting next to her on the bed, wrapping her arm around her shoulder. "That's so sweet. Did you have to tell me this before 6:30 in the morning, though?" Brenda laughed, leaning her head on Donna's shoulder.

"I just had to get out of Kelly's house, and I couldn't go back to my house this early, so I decided to come here," Donna looked at Brenda, with a sweet, good-natured grin.

"Well, I'll let it slide this time, since you're such a dear friend," Brenda grinned, going to her closet, rummaging through stacks of clothing lying in piles on the closet floor.

"Bren, things haven't been the same lately, have they?" Donna's question caused Brenda to stop in her quest to find the perfect outfit for the day's festivities.

"No," Brenda looked at Donna, whose eyes were fixated on the picture of Hello Day on Brenda's dresser. The sadness was now shared. "They haven't been, Don."

"It used to be us three, all the time—at lunch, at the beach, at parties. Now, it's two of us at a time. It's not working for any of us." Donna still stared at the picture. A deep melancholy was churning in Brenda's gut. "Kelly's been acting really strange, lately." Donna had blurted it out. She hadn't meant to say anything, but something about Brenda's sympathetic glance made her want to divulge all the details.

Brenda looked down at her bare feet, "How so?"

"She's been drinking, acting crazy, and yelling at David and me at every chance she gets. She goes out with Jake and doesn't come home until three, but she insists on me spending the night. I don't even know why," Donna crossed her legs, shaking with anxiety. "She's scaring me, Bren. This isn't Kelly."

Brenda wanted to try to shy away from the subject of Kelly. She wanted, so desperately, to say she didn't care and tell Donna that she had no interest in learning anything else about her odd behavior. She shouldn't have said anything more about it; she should have told Donna some lame, half-assed assertion that Kelly would turn around, that all she needed was time. She ended up, however, taking a seat next to Donna on her bed and sighing deeply. "No, it isn't Kelly. I don't know what to do about it, though, Donna. I can't even talk to her right now."

"I can't talk to her either," Donna bit her lip. "She yells at me whenever I try to talk to her about what's going on. David insists that she's fine, but I don't buy it. Her behavior has been flat-out crazy lately. She told us, when we were driving the other night, that she tried to swallow a bottle of pills."

Brenda had to put all the feelings of resentment away at this point. She looked at Donna, obviously concerned. "Do you think that she'd try something like that again?"

"I don't know," Donna shrugged, looking down into her lap. "But I can't necessarily rule it out." A single tear ran down Donna's cheek. "Kelly's been my best friend for years. I've always known what to say to her in every situation. I've always been able to talk sense into her. But now—it's so different."

Brenda put a comforting arm around Donna's shoulder again, "I'll do anything I can to help, Donna. She's like a sister to me." _Sister._ The word didn't seem to fit at the moment, but she knew it was true. She couldn't forgive Kelly necessarily—not yet. But she could help, because there would always be an almost familial tug between them, no matter how rocky their relationship became.

The bathroom door opened suddenly, revealing Brandon, shirtless and groggy standing with a toothbrush in hand. "Donna?" Brandon said, with a mouthful of toothpaste.

"Morning, Bran," Brenda glanced in her brother's direction. Her brother's eyes were scarcely open as he turned back to the running faucet, spit out, and rinsed his mouth out with tap water.

Donna glanced over to him, as he moved closer, noticing the tears running down Donna's cheeks. "Don, what's wrong?" He had walked over to her, leaning in front of her, taking both of her hands in his.

"It's Kelly," Brenda answered, limply, as Donna began to sob.

"What about Kelly?" Brandon asked, obviously interested.

"She's in trouble, Brandon," Donna said, still crying. "I don't know how to help her, or even who to ask to help her. It's getting out of hand, and I feel stuck."

Brandon put his hand on Donna's free shoulder, glancing to his sister, who gazed at him, eyes full of uncertainty. "We'll help her, Donna," Brandon could always tell someone something and make them feel better about it—he had the can-do attitude, the empathetic, wholesome understanding needed to comfort someone. He thought for a minute, though—Brenda noticed he was obviously trying very hard to think of the right thing to say. "What do you think about grabbing some brain food at the Pit with us and drafting up a plan of action? My treat, ladies."

Brenda looked down, studying her fingers carefully. She knew she needed to go. She knew she needed to support Donna—but figuring out how to help Kelly was not something that was now high on her priority list. She had wanted to forget Kelly altogether after this whole ordeal. She wanted to sleep in, forget Kelly's problems, and wait for Dylan's call, for his warm, sleepy voice on the other end of the line.

All the same, she knew what she had to do.

She looked up to see that Donna was smiling at Brandon, and was nodding her head. Brenda feigned a smile, pulling Donna into an embrace. "The Pit it is," Brenda sprung to her feet and went into the closet, pulling out several hangers as trial ensembles. "Now," She grinned as Brandon exited the room, closing the door behind him, "To get you something to wear!"

* * *

><p>She gazed at her reflection in the bathroom mirror, and then splashed her face with the water. In the hour since they'd been there, she still couldn't seem to wake up. She washed her hands, sighing, and giving up for the time being.<p>

All of the talk about Kelly was giving her a headache. She felt like a horrible person for even thinking that, but it was true. She needed to not think for a minute. She needed an escape. That's when she thought of it.

She wandered to the hallway, and then to the payphone, smiling to Brandon, who was still in the midst of a conversation with Donna. He glanced at her briefly, as she picked up the payphone and inserted a quarter into the slot.

She waited as the flat, hollow noise of the dial tone rang twice, and smiled as a hoarse "Hello?" sounded on the receiving end.

"Good Morning, sunshine," Brenda grinned to herself.

"Good Morning to you, Signorina Walsh," She had to say, any foreign language sounded sexy coming out of his mouth. "Is there any particular reason for being such an early riser this morning?"

"Can't a girl decide she wants to get up at a decent hour without being questioned?" Brenda shrugged, her voice low and contained.

"Mm, well, you know what they say," Dylan laughed. "Early to rise, early to bed."

"Are you hinting at something that I should know about, Dylan?" Brenda turned towards the payphone so that she concealed herself from the front.

"I'm _saying_ that the earlier that you rise, the sooner you can be in my bed," She could picture his look, the longing, somewhat teasing gaze. "What time can I pick you up?"

"I'm at the Pit right now with Brandon and Donna," She glanced in their direction. Donna was now eating an omelet, whilst Brandon downed his fourth cup of coffee of the morning. She considered bringing up the cause of the breakfast, but she decided, quickly, to not make the situation worse than it already was. "Maybe you could drop in and then we can swing on out of here."

"Sounds like a plan to me. I'll get showered and dressed. Then, I'm as good as yours," Dylan said slyly.

"I like the sound of that," Brenda smiled again, fumbling with her purse.

"I'll be there in a few, Bren," Dylan hung up the phone and Brenda, taking a deep breath, walked towards Donna and Brandon.

Once she slid into the booth beside her brother, he glanced at her, putting an arm around her shoulder. "Will Dylan be joining us?"

"Yes, he's planning to swing by," Brenda glanced towards the door, noting the bobbing blonde ponytail. Kelly entered seconds later, with Jake at her side. She wore sunglasses and an evening dress, and took a seat at the counter. Jake, looking somewhat confused, followed suit.

"Looks like you weren't kidding," Brandon sipped his coffee, as he examined the situation before him.

"I wish I was," Donna remarked, glancing in their direction before turning back to Brenda. "I don't know if I should even say anything to her. Maybe I should just pretend like I don't—."

"Donna," Her voice sounded from across the diner. No one made any sort of movement, at first. "Donna, I'm right here."

Donna still didn't say anything, staring into her half-finished omelet. "Donna, are you deaf or something?"

Donna stood up, and was about to walk over to Kelly, when Brenda intervened. "No, Donna. Let me talk to her."

Perhaps it was a bad idea. The thought occurred to her once or twice while strolling casually to greet Kelly at the counter. Her heart beat fast, and her head was pounding from the blood flow.

Jake glanced at Brenda as she rested her elbows on the counter beside Kelly. As she ordered a coffee from Nat and faced Kelly, the tension seemed to surround them as a physical entity.

"We were supposed to talk, Kelly. Remember?" Brenda didn't understand how words could possibly be spoken at the moment, but her tongue seemed to move anyway.

"So we were," Kelly glanced at her, smirking. Brenda didn't know if she was imagining it, but Kelly's nose seemed red, and her eyes, beneath the sunglasses, were bloodshot. "If I'm going to be completely honest with you, though, you won't like what you hear."

Brenda smiled at Nat as he handed her a steaming cup of coffee. "That's never stopped you from telling me anything before, Kel." Her voice sounded flat.

"Yeah, except once," Kelly said, bitterly. She glanced at her watch. "Brenda, please just go away. I'm asking you nicely."

"What the hell is wrong with you lately, Kelly? Are you on something?" Brenda glared at her, absolutely furious. "You're scaring your friends. You're alienating people left and right. Things have happened between us, Kelly—of course. I know we haven't been on the best terms. You have to know, though, that you can talk to me about anything that's going on."

"You are just about the last person I want to talk to right now," Kelly glanced at her, her lips pursed. "You have no right to know what's going on with me right now."

"No right?" Brenda repeated, infuriated. "You act like you're the poor, innocent victim here, Kelly. You act like I did something to you, when it's you who—."

"Don't say it, Brenda. I'm warning you," Kelly took off her sunglasses.

"—Who had a fling with my boyfriend, completely ignoring the friendship we shared," Brenda said the words, clearly and almost loudly. "Do you realize how much that hurts to say out loud?"

Brandon and Donna now gaped at the ensuing scene. Some customers paused, glancing at Brenda's sudden outburst. Nat, who had just emerged from the back room, looked on, a little sadly. "He said he told you," Kelly smirked, stirring her glass of diet coke with a straw. "I wondered when I'd hear you actually mention it."

"Well, here's your golden moment, Kelly," Brenda folded her arms, leaning against the counter. "Why don't you just admit it? You've been after him for years."

"Yeah, I have," Kelly gazed at her coolly. "And, you know what? I got him, Bren. You think he's going to stay faithful to you? Please. Whenever he has problems with his little, beloved Bren, he'll come running to me."

Brenda looked down, trying to calm herself down. She took a deep breath. Tears were on the verge of falling. "I want to slap you so badly right now. You have no idea."

"You're such a coward, Brenda," Kelly stood up, her voice growing louder. "Why don't you just run off and go to Dylan's? Be sure to get the bed warm for me."

This time Brenda stopped, facing Kelly, her hand instantaneously meeting Kelly's cheek. "I am not Dylan's bitch and I am certainly not yours."

Brandon ran over to the scene, to his sister's side. Kelly looked at him, her mouth partially open. "This isn't you, Kelly. Please, let's talk about this."

"Don't get involved, Brandon," Brenda said, her voice strained.

Jake, who had sat quietly at the counter until now, now stood up. "Yeah, Brandon. Don't get involved." His tone was obviously mocking and his posture straight, intimidating.

"Who are you? Kelly's dealer?" Brandon pushed his sister lightly to the side.

"You must be this crazy broad's brother," Jake furrowed his eyebrows, stepping closer to Brandon.

Brenda tried to get her brother's attention, but she knew that there was no way he'd step down now. "I wouldn't be so quick to call my sister names, Fonz."

Jake smiled, looking down at the zipper of his leather jacket. "Ouch. That hurt, Wally."

Brandon eyed Jake, ignoring Brenda's attempts to stop him. "Why don't you just get out of here while you have a chance?"

"Not a chance I'm budging, short stuff," Jake and Brandon now stood face-to-face. A circle was gathering around them, and Kelly and Brenda stood in the midst of the prying eyes.

"Guess you don't have such an affinity for insults," Brandon's eyes were bright blue and glazed over with anger.

"What do you say you and your big words meet me outside?" One of Jake's fists was in a ball.

"Brandon-," Brenda cried sharply. Kelly looked on, horrified and speechless.

Brandon glanced at Brenda, and then followed Jake out the door.

Brenda exchanged a worried look with Donna and followed her brother, pushing through the crowd that now gathered.

"Why couldn't you just leave it alone?" Kelly whispered, almost furiously. "Jake is going to beat the shit out of Brandon."

"Can you please just stop talking, Kelly?" Brenda said, through clenched teeth. "I have had enough noise to last me a lifetime."

"You sound just like Dylan," Kelly was smirking as they took their places as witnesses, as Brandon and Jake stared at each other, in the center of the parking lot.

"Why can't you leave it alone, Kelly?" Brenda glared at her, her blue eyes filled with resentment. "Stop throwing your little summer affair in my face."

"It wasn't little and it wasn't simply a summer affair, Brenda," Kelly's lips were still curled into a smirk that left Brenda vexed. "I think you're refusing to look at the bigger picture."

"I think you're the one who isn't looking at the big picture. Dylan chose me, Kelly," Brenda said, softly, trying to keep her anger under wraps. "There isn't anything you can say or do that will change that."

As Jake threw the first punch, Kelly laughed arrogantly. "Maybe nothing I can say, but something I can do? I'll say." She raised one eyebrow, and Brenda, losing all self-control, pushed Kelly back.

"You slut," Brenda said, adrenaline surging through her body. Kelly, amazed for a moment, came back at her, pushing her harder, into a group of people that watched on as Jake socked Brandon in the jaw.

"You crazy bitch," Kelly screamed, as Brenda pulled at her hair. A second group gathered around them, as Brenda swung at Kelly wildly, as Kelly punched Brenda, missing her aim, and hitting her sharply in the nose.

Brenda slapped Kelly again, and Kelly shoved Brenda into a group of people. Brenda fell back, landing with a thud.

Donna ran to Brenda's side immediately, quickly forming an aisle in the crowd. Kelly watched on, not completely understanding what just went on.

"What the hell is going on here?" Dylan's voice sounded over the madness, and Kelly stopped, looking at Brenda, whose eyes were closed. He looked down to Brenda, kneeling, bending down and brushing the hair from her forehead. Brenda's eyes fluttered open as Dylan kissed her on the forehead and supported her head with his hands.

Dylan glanced at Kelly, furrowing his eyebrows. "Did you do this?"

"She came at me, Dylan. What else could I do?" Kelly's eyes were still bloodshot, as she thrust her hands to her sides, frustrated. "Of course, it has to be my fault. It's always my fault with you guys. I'm so tired of it."

"I don't even want to hear the excuses, Kelly. I doubt you had nothing to do with this." Dylan looked back to Brenda, as a groan sounded in the other crowd, and Brandon wobbled, into the crowd that now thinned.

"B," Dylan sighed, giving Donna a pleading glance. "Donna, just stay with her for a minute, okay?"

As soon as Donna nodded, Dylan ran to intervene. He saw a bruise that was quickly turning purple, directly around Brandon's eye. As sirens sounded, Jake jumped into his car, speeding off into the road.

Dylan took Brandon and allowed Brandon to lean on him. "Show's over, folks." He said, watching as the masses left to go back into the Peach Pit. As the cops pulled up, there were only a few witnesses left. Donna was sitting beside Brenda, who leaned on her shoulder, her head throbbing. Kelly stood, dumbfounded. Brandon was still standing limply, supported by Dylan's shoulder.

One policeman exited the car, stopped just a few leagues from Brandon and Dylan. He wore thick aviator sunglasses, and carried a notepad with him. He stood, glancing at Brandon, and then at Brenda, who gazed over weakly, with tears in her eyes. "We got a phone call that reported a fight at this address." The authority in his voice caused a ripple to run through Brandon's chest. He didn't think he could stand to be arrested twice. "I take it you were involved in the fight." He directed his attention towards Brandon.

Brandon sighed. The world was spinning around him. "You could say that," Brandon was barely able to speak. Nausea was rising in his gut.

"I'm going to need a definitive answer," The policeman examined him, taking off his sunglasses, squinting to examine his wounds.

Brandon, however, stumbled out of Dylan's hold, and threw up, directly onto the pavement.

* * *

><p>Brenda was fast asleep in the front seat as Dylan pulled into the Walsh driveway. They resolved to leave her there, as they talked to Cindy about what had happened. Donna stayed with her, to explain in case she woke up.<p>

Brandon was limping a little due to the dizziness as they walked up to the front door. "Man, you have to know what you did was beyond idiotic."

"The last thing I need right now is a lecture, Dylan," Brandon hung his head a little as Dylan knocked on the door. "It's been a rough morning."

"I just don't get what you were thinking, B," Dylan said quietly as Cindy opened the door, her face transitioning from welcoming to horrified in a matter of seconds, as her gaze shifted from Dylan to Brandon.

"What in the world?" Her hands covered her mouth, as she examined Brandon's eye, now swollen, purple and, in some regions, blue.

"Mrs. Walsh, can we sit down and talk about this? Maybe get some ice for his eye?" Dylan put his hands in the pockets of his jeans, shifting his weight from foot to foot, obviously uncomfortable.

"Of course," She said, obviously astonished. She walked to the freezer, glancing back to Brandon as he took a seat at the dining room table.

"Was it a fight?" Cindy asked slowly, handing Brandon a pack of ice rapped in a wet dish towel. She seemed to be afraid of whatever they had to tell her.

"Yeah," Brandon said, looking down at the polished table in front of him. He examined his hands, bruised from wildly throwing blows at Jake's face. "Before you say anything, it was in defense of Brenda and Kelly."

"Kelly?" Cindy repeated the name, somewhat blankly.

"You were defending Kelly?" Dylan leaned forward.

"Guys, please note that I said _Brenda_ too?" Brandon glanced at Dylan, who seemed incredulous.

"I'm sorry, Bran, but it seems like her and Jake are kind of a package deal these days. What did he say to you?" Dylan was insatiably curious.

Brandon knew he couldn't explain it well. "He said things about Brenda. He called her crazy, and then told me I should stay out of it. He didn't say anything about Kelly, but, I don't know, how else can you explain her behavior lately?"

Dylan looked down into his lap. He almost felt guilty that he hadn't thought about Kelly in a long time—not more than a few lingering moments since Brenda and he had reunited. "No one really knows what's going on with Kelly, Brandon, but—."

"But nothing," Brandon remarked, obviously still concerned. "I told Donna that I would help her. Brenda and I both told Donna we'd help her. That's how this whole fiasco ensued to begin with. Brenda went over to try to talk to Kelly."

"With all due respect, I don't think talking to her will help, B," Dylan tapped his fingers on the table.

"I'm starting to realize that," Brandon said, holding the ice pack up to his head. The wound now throbbed. He knew that Dylan was right—but his heart was sore. He felt like there was so much more that he could do that he didn't.

Cindy took a seat adjacent from Dylan, next to Brandon. "The 'fiasco' Brandon was mentioning? Brenda got into a fistfight with Kelly."

"Brenda? Where is she?" Cindy asked, anxiety causing her voice to crack.

"In the car, with Donna. I thought that maybe I could take her back to my place, and we could talk about it before dinner with my dad tonight. I don't know if she'll be too forthcoming, but it's worth a shot." Dylan responded, limply. Cindy rose up from her seat with a start and pulled the curtain back from the living room window.

Cindy glanced over at Brandon. She folded her arms. "What has gotten into you two today?"

"Kelly Taylor," Brandon said, not even in jest. They all sat silently, for a little while. After a few minutes, Cindy rejoined them, sitting at the table, entirely defeated and at loss for things to say or do.

* * *

><p>The wind had rustled her hair, and had aided her into consciousness. The world around her seemed blue as she opened her eyes, just barely. She realized she was moving, and that she was sitting beside Dylan—she didn't know why, but she couldn't remember much of anything for a few moments.<p>

"Bren, you're awake," Dylan had reached for her hand, giving her a warm, lingering stare.

"Yeah," Brenda said, sitting up in her seat. She had a slight headache, but nothing worth complaining about. The memories flooded back into her head suddenly. The Peach Pit, Donna, Kelly—_Kelly_. "Please tell me this was all a bad dream." She groaned as Dylan squeezed her hand.

"Afraid not, Bren," Dylan smiled, slightly. "But the good news is, you might have a future in a fight club."

"Ha ha," Brenda glanced at him wryly. "You think that Kelly knocking me out is funny?"

"No, I find the fact that you slapped her across the face funny," Dylan raised his eyebrows. "Actually, I find it hilarious. On a more serious note, though, are you sure you're absolutely okay? The police asked if we needed the paramedics, and you and Brandon refused to get any medical treatment."

"I don't feel much of anything," Brenda shrugged. "I'm a little sore, but that's it."

"Well, we're heading back to my place, so you can rest up. I explained what happened to your mom," He could see Brenda tense up at that statement.

"She's fine with everything, still. I think she's a little bit surprised about your brother. All in all, though, it's all good. So, are you up to coming with me for the big dinner surprise this evening?" Dylan gazed at her, and then turned back to the road.

"I wouldn't miss it for anything," Brenda grinned, stroking his hand with the tip of her thumb.

"Bren-," Dylan started to speak, hesitantly. "Are you really okay? Do you want to talk about what happened? I mean, I heard Kelly was egging you on and making ugly comments, but I didn't get a sense of how you felt about it all."

"I just thought I could help her," Brenda sighed, as they pulled into Dylan's driveway. "I thought she'd let me back in. She just keeps pushing me away, and it gets to me. It wears on me. She said something about getting your bed warm for her, and I just lost it."

"Oh, baby," Dylan reached over, pulling her into him. "I'm so sorry I didn't get there earlier."

"It's not your fault," Brenda held on to him, allowing him to pull her to him, so that she was sitting on his lap.

"Yeah, in a way, it is," Dylan held her close. "I just wish there was something I could do to make it all stop. I wish I could take it all back."

Brenda placed her hand on the back of his neck. She kissed him, softly. He responded smoothly, placing both of his hands on her waist, running them down across her hips and her outstretched legs.

"I just want to be with you right now," Brenda whispered into his ear. "That's it." Brenda planted kisses on his cheek, on his neck, then on his lips, navigating her hands so that they were flat on his hips.

"How do you manage to be sad and still so sexy?" Dylan kissed her once again, taking her into his arms, carrying her up the driveway and into his house.

"Call it a gift," Brenda smiled, nibbling on his earlobe and then kissing him again, as he laid her down on the couch. They moved together, Dylan entirely engrossed in her. As they removed their clothes, the events of the day melted into nothingness.

Nothing else ever seemed to matter when they were together. They were away from their problems and away from the world.


	18. Eternal Summer

A strictly B/D chapter, because today I was in a strictly B/D mood! Jack's big surprise won't be included in this chapter, but it will in the next; which should be up in the next few days. I've been thinking a little about which other Season 3 storylines should be incorporated and which shouldn't (for example, Brandon's gambling problem). What original elements would you like to see fit into the story? Tell me in your review! Thank-you for reading and for all the great suggestions!

** Disclaimer: I do not own Beverly Hills, 90210 or any of its characters (sigh) **

Dylan's bedroom was colored by the lazy, wilted light of the already late Saturday afternoon sunshine when Brenda finally broke away from Dylan's grasp on her flat, bare stomach. Dylan, who had fallen asleep in the hour since they had eaten a very late lunch in bed, groaned slightly, pulling her back as she pushed herself forward. Her slender legs dangled off the side of his bed as Dylan moved closer to her, one hand grasping her waist. "Don't go." He murmured, softly.

She glanced back at him, skeptically. "Dylan, we've been in bed since noon."

"Have we? It hasn't seemed nearly long enough," Dylan gazed at her, his mocha eyes glistening with devilish desire. She hated to admit it, but even though she was strong-willed by nature, saying 'no' to him was something she could almost never do. Brenda smirked, getting up on her knees and crawling back over to him, kissing him on the lips softly, then pulling away.

"You're not going anywhere," Dylan smiled deviously, pulling her into him and kissing her neck playfully. Brenda attempted to squirm out of his grasp, but he only held onto her tighter, until she finally relaxed, resting on his chest, kissing him deeply, his hands sliding down the length of her body, smoothly making their way to her thighs. Brenda kissed him, her knees on either side of his hips, running her hands down his chest, and then lying flat on him, her hands resting on his neck, moving up to his cheek, which she stroked, absently. They stared at each other, for a little while, the silence between them warm and entirely comfortable. "So, tell me. How's my little Brenda Tyson doing?" Dylan still smiled, his hands resting on Brenda's hips.

"Just fine, thank-you for asking," Brenda grinned as he put one hand in her hair, stroking her long, nearly black hair. "She does, however, wonder when we'll finally learn the art of self-restraint."

"I think that self-restraint isn't something to be worked towards," Dylan grasped her waist, smiling as he rolled over until he was on top of her, "Especially when the woman you're madly in love with is as mind-bogglingly sexy as Brenda Walsh."

"You're good, McKay," Brenda kissed him for a long moment, and then allowed him to kiss her neck without restraint. "We need to get dressed, though. Preferably, sometime before a search party is sent to track us down."

"I prefer us _not_ being dressed. C'mon, Bren, I thought this was an 'us' day," Dylan moaned into her neck, pouting like a little kid.

"Well, an 'us' day doesn't necessarily have to be completely about us lying together in bed all day, does it?" Brenda smiled as she gently pushed Dylan off of her, managing to finally pull away from his grasp and onto her feet. She searched for her underwear and her black miniskirt, while Dylan examined her, obviously hesitant to budge from his spot on the bed. As she slipped on her thong and lace bra, she made her way back to Dylan, who was giving her a sly, seductive gaze as he rose from his former position. Brenda threw her skirt onto the bed, as she sat in his lap.

"You say you don't want to lie in bed all day, but you somehow always end up back here," Dylan smiled as he wrapped his arms around her.

Brenda ran a finger down his chest, "What can I say? My boyfriend is a master of seduction." He kissed her, firmly.

"Oh, is that so? Well, my girlfriend is too enticing to not shack up with at every opportunity possible," When they pulled away, he continued to hold her close. "Hey, Bren? I sort of have a surprise for you—for tonight."

"What is with you McKay men and surprises?" Brenda put her arms around his neck, raising her eyebrows. He grinned when he detected the faintest sense of innocence in her eyes. To him, she'd always look like a slightly bewildered sixteen-year-old.

"Trust me, Bren, this is one surprise I know you'll love," He smiled, taking Brenda into his arms and then placing her down on the ground gently. He kissed her again, and then walked to his closet, removing something that was in a protective dry cleaning bag. He laid it out on the bed, unzipping it and removing a short red dress.

"You bought me something to wear for tonight?" Brenda smiled, kissing him on the cheek.

"Correction: I bought you something superbly sexy to wear tonight—in a size 2," Dylan put his hands around her waist. Brenda examined the dress, still smiling.

"And you did it all by yourself?" Brenda noticed all the detail, from the sweetheart neckline to the tiered skirt that she knew would fall just above mid-thigh. She picked it up, startled when a long black box tumbled from somewhere within the dress' realm.

"Well, I had some help," Dylan tilted his head, still eyeing her as she picked up the box. Dylan watched her as she eyed it curiously. "And before you ask, it wasn't some salesgirl, because you know how I feel about the whole Rodeo scene. Donna volunteered to help when I asked for her advice. And that," Dylan paused, taking the box in his own hands, "is something that I picked out without any help."

He opened up the box, revealing a necklace with a large, elegant light pink pendant.

Brenda took it in her hands, mesmerized. "In the midst of all the craziness this year, I didn't get to give you an appropriate gift. I wanted to give you something special, something that suits you. On November 6th, 1974, the world was blessed with two extremely special kids—two kids that have made a major difference in my life. I hope you know that you and Brandon are the best people I've ever had in my life. _You_ have been my saving grace many a time. I know it doesn't really go with the dress, but—." Brenda threw her arms around his neck, smiling uncontrollably.

"Dylan, it's beautiful," She was still smiling, as Dylan put his hands around her waist, holding her close.

"You're beautiful," He whispered in her ear. They held each other for another long moment.

When they pulled away, Brenda handed the necklace to Dylan. He reached over her head, the soft, silver chain running over her skin as he fastened the clasp. He kissed the back of her neck, running his hands down her sides, smoothly and suavely. She turned around, and they kissed again, Dylan playing with the strap of her thong. Brenda pushed him away, gently, her smile slowly fading.

She looked down, thinking about their day together, about her renewed friendship with Donna, sitting down and taking it all in. She felt, for the first time in a while that she had her old life back—the life that she'd taken for granted before she had arrived home from Paris.

"You okay?" Dylan sat down beside her, putting one arm around her and giving her one of his probing stares, one of those gazes that seemed to look into her soul.

Brenda paused, taking a long moment to think. "It's just things are starting to seem normal again, and I don't know why, but… I think I'm scared."

"Scared of what?" Dylan stroked her shoulder, gazing at her attentively.

"Scared that the rug will get pulled down from under me, scared that something will ruin it all, scared that I'll lose everything I have for the second time in one year," She looked up to Dylan, finding all the comfort she needed in his eyes, "Scared of everything."

"Hey—," Dylan pulled her close, so that she sat on his lap again. He embraced her as she began to cry, and then put his hand gently on her chin, moving it so that she could look into his eyes. "You remember what I said last time we broke up, Bren? About me not going after you again?"

"Yes," A sudden pang of emotion rippled across her chest, "Very vividly."

"I lied," He looked into her eyes, "Because I'm never going to let you go again—and if that involves going after you, so be it. The rug isn't going to be pulled out from under you as far as our relationship is concerned. I'll make sure of it."

Brenda smiled through her tears, "I'm so happy to hear you say that."

"I love you, Brenda," Dylan gazed at her sincerely. "I want to make you happy. I've always wanted to make you happy. I haven't gone about in all the right ways, and sometimes I've given up entirely, but the point is, I truly love you."

Brenda stroked the back of his neck, as Dylan continued to look at her, holding her gaze for another comfortable moment. "I love you too, Dylan—and I think I always will." She kissed Dylan tenderly. He kissed her then, forcefully, until they were back on the bed, rolling over her new dress, until they were parallel to each other.

Once they had settled down, Brenda once again resting on Dylan's chest, Dylan spoke, anticipating Brenda's next comment. "Okay, okay, I get it. We're back where we started. What do you say we shower, get ready, and maybe have a second viewing of Casablanca before heading out to meet Jack in an undisclosed location?"

"But, we didn't really watch the _first_ viewing of Casablanca," Brenda smiled mischievously as Dylan maneuvered them both to the edge of the bed, picking her up and lifting her so that she partially leant over his shoulder.

"All the more reason to give it a second try," Dylan dragged her into the bathroom, turning on the hot water. Brenda giggled as he shut the glass door behind them.

* * *

><p>Dylan sat on his couch, reading a book absently, listening to Brenda frantically move around his bathroom. "We seriously need to go, Bren!" Dylan dropped his book and moved off the couch, walking towards the door, car keys in hand.<p>

He heard the door open slightly, and Brenda's voice sheepishly drifted out. "Just one more minute, I swear."

"Bren, you said five minutes ago _twenty_ minutes ago," Dylan sighed loudly, waiting for her to emerge, and watching the seconds on his analog clock tick by.

"You know I am notoriously bad with being on time," Brenda grinned, as she appeared in the doorway of his bedroom. Dylan was almost taken aback—somehow, she was always able to surprise him with how beautiful she was, and what a mature woman she was becoming. The dress fit her perfectly—the rather brisk length emphasizing her perfect legs.

"I know that you are notoriously bad in general," Dylan smirked as he met her in the middle of his living room floor, kissing her deeply, wanting, so badly, to pick her up off the floor. "You know, your legs look almost as good in that dress as they did in those tiny denim cutoffs—the day you walked in on me taking a shower."

"Feeling a little nostalgic, Dylan?" Brenda smiled as she looked into his eyes, which were brimming with some deep, stirring emotion Brenda couldn't quite put her finger on.

"Just a little. I mean, two years ago you walked in on me taking a shower, and now we're taking showers together. Look at how incredibly far we've come," Dylan smiled wickedly, bending down to kiss her neck.

Brenda punched him in the stomach, wandering over to the door, "And here I thought you were going to say something incredibly romantic."

"Oh _Brenda_, shall I compare thee to a summer's day?" Dylan dramatically ran after her, laughing and catching her hand in his. "_Thou art more lovely and more temperate. Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May, and summer's lease hath too short a date—." _He pulled Brenda into him. "Is that more along the lines of what you wanted?"

"You should win an award for sincerity," Brenda smiled, taking the keys from him and leading him out the front door with her hand.

As Brenda locked the door, Dylan positioned himself behind her, stroking her hips, kissing her bare shoulders. "I know I tease you mercilessly, but you do know that I love you, Bren? More than anything?"

"More than anything," Brenda repeated, as she enjoyed his hold on her, how her body seemed to fit into his.

"Thy eternal summer shall not fade," Dylan said, his voice becoming humorless, his eyes colored with the same deep sincerity that they often held when he was with Brenda.

Brenda allowed herself to be spun around, so that she faced him again. "How can someone know that? How can someone know that something will never fade or just go away?"

"Some things don't have to be known, Bren—some things are just felt," Dylan stroked her cheek with his hand. He didn't have to say anything more. Brenda kissed him, wanting to stay like that forever, and not quite knowing why.

"So," Dylan said, his leg wandering down to her thigh. "Any chance you're going to let me take this dress off of you in the near future?"

"I guess we'll have to just see about that," Brenda narrowed her eyes, guiding him to his Speedster.

"I'll take that as a yes," Dylan laughed, opening her car door and shutting it as she climbed in. He hopped in the driver's seat, taking her hand in his, kissing it before he put the keys into the ignition. "Now, off to meet daddy dearest."

Brenda laughed as Dylan backed out into the road and sped away. She thought about how wonderful it was to just be with him, about his words, about everything—but mostly about whatever it was that Jack McKay had up his sleeve. She didn't know why, but she was suddenly incredibly apprehensive for the things that were to come.

***Note: Season 3 had a somewhat odd way of putting characters' birthdays all over the place. I know that Brenda and Brandon were never actually given a birthdate, but Iris always called Brenda a Scorpio, so they had to be born in October or November. Anyway, I also know that Dylan gave Kelly a necklace with Brenda's birthstone in a daydream, so I thought this was a sort of symbolic gesture for him to give **_**her**_** a necklace with her birthstone. Again, with the whole birthday fiasco: if Brenda has a November birthday, her birthstone would be Topaz, not an Emerald. Silly BH90210 writers: thinking we would like the Dylan/Kelly pairing and thinking we wouldn't notice that all the characters seem to each have a birthday identity crisis. Anyway, this is officially the end of my Season 3 rant. Thanks for listening :) **


	19. Isn't it Romantic?

So, after a traumatic four day wisdom teeth removal nightmare, I am back! In this chapter, Jack McKay's big surprise is revealed. Any guesses as to what it is? I've obviously named this chapter after one of my favorite episodes, "Isn't it Romantic?" and I've included some flashbacks from that particular episode that bring out some unresolved issues between Dylan and his father. Ooh, and I've also included a special scene at the end upon the excellent recommendations of MarkandLexiefan and PrueAndyForever. I hope you guys enjoy this chapter and be sure to review :)!

**Disclaimer: I do not own Beverly Hills, 90210 or any of its characters (bummer, right?)**

Dusk was fast approaching as they rode down SR-90. As Dylan drove, focusing on the road ahead, Brenda attempted to read Jack's almost illegible handwriting, trying to decipher the cryptic directions and interpret them. They must have been searching for this place for an hour. They'd reached dead ends, had to turn around umpteen times, and Brenda was nearly certain, at this point, that Jack McKay was attempting to throw them off.

"Maybe I should try to read it upside down," Brenda said, squinting. "Sideways. Maybe it's a code!"

"I don't think my dad has any reason to be so artistic, Bren," Dylan couldn't help but laugh. She was cute when she couldn't understand something. "Although, he has been known to perform some artistic disappearing acts in the past." His tone became more serious and lower. Brenda turned her attention to him momentarily, noticing that his eyes held the slightest tinge of sadness in them.

They approached a bend in the road, and headed back towards the ocean. Brenda glanced down at the piece of paper in front of her, "Okay, I think he's saying here that we need to take a right up here." Dylan didn't seem to pay attention, and continued in the direction he was already going in. "Dylan!" Brenda said, anxiously.

"Bren, relax. I think I know where we're going now." He smiled at her, stroking her chin with his free hand.

Brenda looked at him, slyly. "And let me guess? You're not going to tell me where you think it is."

"You'll find out soon enough," Dylan smirked, and Brenda, eyeing him in that spitfire way of hers, trying, in vain, to get the truth out of him.

Brenda still gazed at him, pouting, as he turned once again. "_Dylan_," Brenda dragged out his name. "You know how I feel about surprises."

Dylan bit his lip, grabbing her hand and pulling her towards him, kissing her. "Yes, I do," He grinned, mocking her whine, "But I also know that you like _my _surprises."

"You know, technically, it's your dad's surprise," Brenda raised her eyebrows, leaning slightly over the center console. Dylan gazed at her as he pulled into a familiar landscape, dotted with sails and what looked like fields of yachts in the distance.

A guard standing in the parking lot walked over to the Speedster, examining Dylan and immediately recognizing him. "Your father is expecting you, Mr. McKay," The guard put his hands on the door of the car, looking over to Brenda. "He mentioned that you would be accompanied by a guest."

"Yes, sir," Dylan looked over to Brenda, who was examining her surroundings carefully.

"Welcome to Marina del Rey," The guard nodded, taking one final glance at Dylan and then at Brenda as they pulled off into the parking lot.

"Marina del Rey?" Brenda repeated, somewhat confused. "I, honestly, did not see that coming."

"Thus, the point of the surprise," Dylan grinned, as they rode into a parking space, overlooking a basin. Dylan remembered coming here many times, in the past. There had been countless parties thrown on the yacht his father had once owned. There had been times when they'd actually lived there, after Iris had disappeared to Hawaii. There had been times that he'd hid out alone, his father flying off to exotic places, fleeing from fraud charges. His memories seemed to greet him as he exited the car, taking Brenda in his arms. He didn't know why, but, for a moment, with Brenda in tow, he was able to push the bad memories away. It was perhaps what he liked most about the time they spent together—all the bad was expelled, so suddenly, without any viable explanation.

"You know, I'm still dreaming of getting this dress off of you," Dylan growled into her neck, as Brenda giggled. He grasped her waist, kissing her playfully.

"Might I remind you that patience is a virtue?" Brenda gave him a sultry glance, as he proceeded to toy with her, his arms wrapped around her waist.

"I was beginning to think you two weren't going to make it," Jack's voice came out of nowhere. He was approaching them from a distance. Dylan noticed that he was dressed in a tuxedo, and, for some reason, it made him nervous. He suddenly didn't know quite what to expect.

"Well, the directions you gave me weren't so clear, and my navigation assistant over here only proved to distract me," Dylan glanced at Brenda, raising his eyebrows flirtatiously. Brenda grinned at Jack, as he finally stood at a comfortable distance. Brenda reached out to give him a hug, while Dylan stood, watching vigilantly, his hands shoved in his pockets.

"With a navigation assistant like that, how couldn't you be distracted? Brenda," Jack grinned, as he looked at her, obviously noticing the dress Dylan had bought her. "You look beautiful—as usual." He winked, as he moved to Dylan, still uncomfortably shifting his weight.

"Dylan," He said, his gray eyes twinkling. "I'm very glad that you can be here tonight. It's important that I share this with you."

"Share what?" Dylan said, his voice growing colder by the moment.

"One surprise at a time, son," Jack put his arm around his shoulder. "First things first. We've been leant, for the time being, a yacht to do what we please with. I figured until I find somewhere more permanent for us, we could call this… well, home." Jack smiled, as Brenda walked beside Dylan. She could see his skepticism, clearly. Reading him was second-nature to her.

"Dad, you know I already have a place," Dylan shrugged, squeezing Brenda's hand. "There's no reason for me to go through all that hassle, moving out. I like where I live."

"C'mon, kid," Jack didn't look discouraged by Dylan's hesitance, "I haven't been in your life when it counted the most, but I want to reconnect. I want to know my son. I'm not saying you have to move out of your house. All I'm saying is that, you're a very welcome guest at Casa McKay." Jack's smile was infectious, and Dylan found himself smiling, opening up—if only slightly.

As they approached the pier, Jack ran ahead, towards a boat obviously populated with more than a few guests. "There's a couple people I want you to meet, Dylan," Jack climbed up the stairs, taking a few steps onto the deck. "Brenda, you too." He shouted out to them, as they walked slowly down the pier.

"I don't know about this, Bren," Dylan glanced at her. The fear was very evident in his eyes. "I don't know what this is all about."

"Dylan," She turned to him, sliding her fingers down his cheek, "Your dad wants you to be a part of his life. Even if this surprise isn't what you're hoping for, I still think, honestly, deep down, he wants to make certain that you are in his life—not just for a while, but permanently. That's why he's sharing whatever this is with you." She kissed him on the cheek. Dylan pulled her into an embrace by the waist, craving her touch and support. She stroked his hair, as he held onto her. "It's going to be alright, Dylan. I swear to you, it's going to be alright."

"How do you know that, Bren?" He pulled away slightly, still holding on to her, but looking her in the eyes.

"Some things you don't know—some things you feel," She grinned at him, as he embraced her once again.

"I love you, Brenda. Thank-you so much for coming tonight. You don't know how much it means to me." He kissed her on the neck, lovingly. "You're always there for me when I need it the most. I don't know what I did to deserve you after all the shit I've put you through, but—." He looked at her, softly. "Whatever it was, it was worth it."

"I love you too, Dylan," She smiled, taking one of his hands in hers. "And I whole-heartedly agree. It was _very_ worth it."

He loved her smile—he loved everything about her, in general. He kissed her, passionately, pulling her closer, his arm slipping down, gently caressing her butt.

"Hey, lovebirds," Christine's voice echoed out of the crowd. Dylan and Brenda both glanced in her direction. She wore a knee length white gown, offset by a fitted white jacket. A thought popped into Brenda's head, but she quickly dispelled it. "Come on in—Jack and I want to have a little tête-à-tête with you two!"

Dylan exchanged looks with Brenda. As they walked slowly to the yacht, Christine watching them from afar, Dylan gave her another one of those anxious looks.

"It'll be fine," She repeated to him, squeezing his hand. "Everything is going to be just fine." She grinned again, pecking him on the cheek. As they reached the stairs, Dylan stopped.

"You first," Dylan pointed, and then put his hands on either side of her hips.

"You're sick," Brenda smiled, giving him a playful slap on the chest, and then racing up the stairs, him racing after her.

As they reached the deck, Christine and Jack were standing in the doorway of a cabin directly adjacent to them. "What do you say we have a little talk?" Jack shrugged, watching Dylan's reluctance as he moved forward.

The four entered the spacious kitchenette, Dylan still nervously eyeing Brenda.

A booth connected to the wall on the far end served as their meeting place. Brenda slid into one side first, Dylan sliding beside of her. Jack and Christine sat adjacent to them, Jack facing Dylan and Christine facing Brenda.

"I should have done this earlier, but now is as good a time as any," Jack put his hands on the table, as Brenda slipped her hand in his under the table.

Christine remained silent, occasionally glancing to Jack.

"My life has been on hold for a long time, Dylan. It's almost overwhelming, being able to live life openly and freely, and I made a decision a few weeks ago, to change my life for the better," He made eye contact with Christine, and then with Dylan. "I asked Christine to marry me—and we're getting married tonight. That's what this party is for, actually."

Dylan gazed at his father for a long moment, and then down to his lap. "You asked her to _marry _you? Tonight?" The words sounded like led in his throat.

"We know it's sudden," Christine finally spoke. "Nothing's for sure in life, though, and we thought we shouldn't hesitate to act on this. We love each other, very much, Dylan—and we've very devoted to each other."

Dylan couldn't speak. He glanced at his father again, and slowly got up from his seat. "I need some air." Brenda raced out after him, but Jack lightly grasped her arm.

"I think I need to have a talk alone with him, Brenda," He gave her a small half smile, and then walked out through the door, as Brenda stared on, helplessly.

* * *

><p>He ran down the pier until he could be sure he was out of sight. He couldn't think as he sat down on a bench, hearing the distant noises of the goings-on of the marina, the swaying of the boats along the harbor. He looked out to the basin, feeling limp and confused.<p>

He began to think about the last time he'd fought with his dad—the last time he'd seen Jack McKay as he so vividly remembered him: hostile, careless, and vehement.

_As the door had shut behind them, and Brenda had been left, so suddenly, alone in the foyer, a rush of emotions had surged through Dylan. He didn't know how to even face his father at the moment—he didn't know how to even breathe at the moment. _

_ "I asked you to do a few simple things of vital importance to me," His father had begun, pointing his hands angrily in Dylan's direction._

_ "Of vital importance?" He had repeated, angrily. Anger was oozing from his every pore. He couldn't contain it. He could only think of how suddenly his happiness was crushed, by the very presence of the man who dared to call himself his father. _

_ "Yes, is that too much to ask?" His father had said, just as pointedly. His eyes were cold, almost callous. Dylan had leaned back against a dresser, trying to brace himself. _

_ "I went to that bar and I sat there for hours with those dudes," He tried to calm himself down, to no avail. "You didn't even call me! Where were you?"_

_ "Did it ever occur to you that I might be tied up? The whole world, Dylan, does not revolve around Dylan McKay," He had said it in such a matter-of-fact way that Dylan became angrier, almost livid. It was so ironic that he'd say that—considering that Jack McKay's world never revolved around him. _

_ "Oh, did it ever?" He repeated, sarcastically, swinging through the doors again, reappearing, going directly for the booze. As Brenda gazed at him, frantic with fear, he could feel all the pain climbing out of the grave he thought he'd buried it. _

_ He recalled sitting at that bar a week before, looking at the shiny polished surface of the counter before him, hearing words uttered by talking heads all around him, asking him what kind of joke it was, that his father didn't even show up to the meeting he, himself, had arranged. He remembered talking to the bartender, ordering another round of drinks, downing the brandy, which trickled down his throat, going down as smoothly as water. _

"Dylan," His father's voice sounded directly behind him. "Is this seat taken?"

The wind blew through Dylan's hair. Dylan didn't respond to the question. He merely stared ahead.

"You know, Brenda wanted to go after you, but I told her we should talk instead," Jack took the seat beside him, even though Dylan refused to acknowledge his presence. "She's very special; I can tell."

He looked down at his lap. "She is very special—for so many different reasons. She helped me get through more difficult times than anyone."

Jack was silent for a moment. He seemed to be deep in thought. "I wish I could take it all back, Dylan. I wish I was there for you, like I should have been."

"Well, we can't turn back the clocks," He fumbled with his hands, anger looming just under the surface. "Trust me, I've tried."

"Correct me if I'm wrong, Dylan, but I thought we were really getting somewhere with our relationship," He still couldn't bring himself to look at Jack.

"How can we ever get somewhere with our relationship?" Dylan asked, staring out to the basin again, listlessly. "We don't even have a relationship."

"Dylan, I know that we've had a hell of a lot of conflict in the past, but-." Dylan stood up now, finally facing his father.

"A hell of a lot of conflict? That's an understatement if I ever heard one. Look, you have _never_ been there for me in the past. I've had to raise myself. I've been on my own for longer than I can remember," Dylan's voice became angrier. He couldn't control it for any longer. "I've felt worthless all my life, because my own parents don't care enough to pull their shit together and take care of their son. I'm tired of all the promises, Jack! I'm tired of you coming back into town and saying everything is going to be all hunky dory, and then you blowing up on me because I don't want any part in your dirty work. I'm done with being used, for my money and for everything else. I'm just done with all of you, because all you ever do is come into my life and then go right back out. You say you'll be there, but really, you don't care at all." He breathed heavily, in and out. He looked away from Jack, staring up to the sky, and then off to the pier, where he saw Brenda looking on. A tiny bit of calmness rushed through him—she was standing there, within striking distance.

"Dylan, I want to be there for you," He looked his father in the eyes again. Those gray eyes, usually so filled with their own sort of rage, were pleading. "I want to make it up to you, in any way I can. I just don't know how."

"I don't know how either," Dylan looked down. "I don't know if we'll ever know how." The frustration was fading. He sighed.

There was a moment of silence injected with a fair amount of tension. Dylan breathed deeply, glancing once again to Brenda, who still looked on. He had to say, sometimes he felt like she was his guardian angel.

"All those years that went by, I never told you once that I loved you," His father stood now. "I never told you how lucky I was to have you as my son. I never stuck around long enough to notice what a wonderful young man you were becoming, the man you are becoming today. I look at you, and I see so much of me in you—and that scares me, but I also know one thing: you're not me. You are your own breed. You said it yourself: you raised yourself, without much intervention by me or your mother. I can't do anything about the time we lost, but I can try to do something about the time we have now. That's all I can do and I want to do the best that I can. I need you to let me in a little, though, Dylan. I need you to stop being angry for a while. I need you to let me get to know my only son." He put one arm on Dylan's right shoulder. "I never told you some important things in the past, so here goes. I love you, Dylan. I am extremely fortunate to have you as my son. I know I haven't stuck around in the past, but I plan to stick around in the future—I plan to be there for you, and watch you grow, for the remainder of your senior year. I plan to watch as you graduate. I plan to see you off to your future—because I _do_ care."

Dylan felt tears well up in his eyes. He tried to fight them, but they were inevitable. He allowed his father to wrap his arms around him, and he smiled slightly. He smiled, because Jack McKay, his bastard father, the crazy, maniacal whack-job that had yelled at Dylan mercilessly in front of his future girlfriend, was standing before him, pouring his feelings out to him—this was truly a once-in-a-lifetime thing.

He didn't know why and he didn't know how—but he knew, deep down in his heart, that his father was, for once, telling the truth.

* * *

><p>The grand dining hall of the Ritz Carlton at the Marina del Rey was dimly lit as Dylan, Brenda, Christine, and Jack sat eating salmon at the main bridal table situated in the far right corner of the room. As the evening went on and the guests became increasingly intoxicated, Jack rose to his feet, holding his chardonnay out, and tapping it with a spoon.<p>

"Excuse me, ladies and gentlemen. I believe that a toast is in order, to celebrate this union, this wonderful group of people who showed up tonight, and my beautiful family, who, indeed, make me a very happy man," Dylan made eye contact with Jack, smiling sheepishly. "First, I'd like to say that I couldn't ask for a better partner than Christine. She is beautiful, understanding, and perfect, in each and every way." Jack paused, reaching for Christine's hand. "I'd also like to take a moment to recognize my son, Dylan. I haven't always been on the best terms with him. In fact, there were times when we didn't talk at all. I seem to recall one moment when I probably scared the hell out of the beautiful young lady sitting to his left by yelling at him about business affairs in front of her." There was a pause for laughter in the audience. Dylan smiled at Brenda, as she blushed, remembering that particular night very vividly. "I have recently been offered a second chance with him, though. This is something I'm very thankful for. I'd like to toast to Dylan, to my lovely wife Christine, and to Brenda, Dylan's girlfriend and an honorary member of the McKay clan. Here's to a beautiful life, and to beautiful people." Jack rose his glass and everyone else followed suit.

Dylan looked Brenda in the eye, taking a sip of his water, reading her look in an instant. As the crowd settled and conversation broke out once again, he leaned over to her.

"Ready to have some fun of our own?" Dylan had smiled devilishly.

Brenda raised her eyebrows. "What kind of fun, Dylan?"

"It involves a bikini, a body of water, and just us," Dylan kissed her neck, obviously plagued by lust. "Are you catching my drift?"

"I think I just might be," Brenda smiled flirtatiously, taking Dylan's hand and following his lead towards the hotel lobby.

* * *

><p>Dylan drifted in the heated water as he waited for Brenda to emerge from the building. He was confident that they would be alone, and was practically dying from the building anticipation of Brenda's arrival. <em>How long can it take one woman to buy something decently sexy in the hotel gift shop?<em> He began to regret handing her a $100 bill and telling her to pick out something and meet him outside. Oh, girls… shopping maniacs, every last one of them.

He began to swim absently towards the deep end of the pool. He swam towards the edge, lifting himself up by his elbows. He leant against the edge of the pool, closing his eyes.

The door out to the pool area opening suddenly caught his attention. He glanced quickly, only to be disappointed when it wasn't Brenda. A petite, dark-haired girl with a flushed face began to pace back and forth, her arms folded.

The door opened yet again. Dylan rolled his eyes, thinking how silly the assumption that the two could possibly be left alone in a hotel pool was. The girl who had formerly been pacing now walked towards the deep end of the pool, refusing to look at a tall boy with a dark, dangerous glint in his eyes who followed her to where she was standing.

Dylan, uncomfortable with the whole situation, submerged himself under the water, surfacing only when he began to hear screaming.

"I don't get what's going on with you," The girl screamed, her face bright red. "One minute you're fine, and the next you go psycho on me."

"I didn't mean to," The boy grabbed her arm as she attempted to walk away. "I'm saying that honestly."

"Just let me go. I'll call for a cab," She faced him, obviously trying to be strong. Her eyes were a pretty shade of green, and, at the moment, they were wide with alarm.

"Jess, please," The boy looked down, still grabbing her arm. "Let me at least try to explain."

"No, no explanations," She began to run, and the boy runs after her, pulling at her, until he caught her. Dylan smiled, knowingly. _Déjà vu_, he shook his head, going underwater, envisioning Brenda in those early years—how her blue eyes glistened and how her sweetness radiated off of her, acting as sunshine to his clouded heart.

_"He gets to me—he just always gets to me. I don't know what I'm supposed to do-," He remembered how Brenda's terror had seemed to fade noticeably, how the empathy in her eyes had made him feel so safe. His arms had been around her in an instant. _

He resurfaced, noting that the couple was now inside, kissing and holding each other close.

The door had opened again, just as Dylan had leaned back, revealing the very face he'd hoped to see. She wore a short-sleeved, see-through cover-up, under which he could see very clearly a black bikini.

She stared at him for a minute, examining him as he quickly made his way to the pool steps, making his way over to her.

"So, you finally decided to show up," Dylan smiled slyly as he approached her. She tilted her head, slightly, noticing that her long hair was braided down her back.

"Well, I couldn't very well leave a sexy man like you out here all alone, now could I?" She put her arms around him, feeling warm as he pulled her tightly into him. Her legs were wrapped around his hips as they began to kiss, lightly at first. The kisses increased in intensity as they began to near the water. Dylan slipped her cover-up off as he began to climb down the steps, into the warm, lighted pool.

She playfully pulled away from him, standing for a moment in the shallow end of the water. She unfastened her braid, allowing her hair to go down her back. She leaned back into the water, as Dylan came up behind her, snatching her into his arms, kissing her on the neck and down to her breasts.

She once again put her arms around Dylan's neck as they floated for a bit in the water, just looking into each other's eyes.

"I love you, Bren," He smiled, stroking her hair. She never tired of hearing that phrase. "I just wanted to let you know, I've never once regretted choosing you. It feels so right this time."

Brenda looked down for a moment, her blue eyes reflecting the water's choppy surface. The rising heat created steam and created a barrier between Brenda and Dylan and the already empty pool pavilion. "It's always felt right between us, Dylan. I don't think our relationship ever broke down because there was a lack of feeling. Sometimes, being in love creates problems."

"Problems we've managed to overcome each and every time," Dylan dipped down, kissing her neck, and then returning to gaze into her eyes. His chestnut eyes were yielding and open.

"I guess we have overcome them, haven't we?" Brenda smirked, as Dylan ran his hand across her back. She shivered ever so slightly, chilled by the cold air.

Dylan held her tightly, burying his head in her neck for a moment.

"Your dad's speech was beautiful, Dylan," She looked into his eyes deeply, savoring the moment. "I'm so happy that he finally realizes how lucky he is to have a son like you. For a while there, I thought he must be blind."

Dylan looked down, smiling a little, suddenly shy, "You always do wonders for my ego, Bren."

Brenda grinned, rubbing him lightly under the chin. "What can I say? That's what I'm here for."

"It's not _all_ you're here for, though," Dylan smirked, kissing her lightly on the neck, his hands tracing her spine, his lips locking with hers. Dylan grasped her hips, kissing her wildly, his tongue moving with hers.

They spun around the pool, Brenda's hands seizing his hair, her legs bracing on his hips. Dylan held onto her waist so that she leant back and Dylan leant forward.

They stopped along a wall, Dylan leaning against it as Brenda put her hands on his shoulders, roughly kissing him and working her hands along the edge of his surf trunks.

"Bren," He moaned, lightly. "Are we going where I think we're going?"

She gave him a deviously sexy stare. "It depends on where you think we're going."

Dylan cocked one eyebrow, tilting his head slightly. "What if I know where we're going with this?"

"Then, by all means, continue," She kissed Dylan again, as he untied one side of her bikini bottoms.

Dylan spun her around so that her back was to the wall, Brenda moving down the wall as she pulled his trunks down to his knees. They kissed for another moment, Brenda feeling the warmth inside of her, as they moved gently against each other, suppressing moans as the moment intensified.

In the distance, moonlight danced off the basins, and the dim lights of the Ritz played distractedly on the water. A peace and sense of calmness settled over that night—a surreal peace that settled over West Los Angeles like a thick, heavy blanket.


	20. Crash and Burn Girl

I am _so_ happy that you guys liked last chapter! I'm glad that I portrayed Dylan and his dad's relationship realistically—I always thought it was an interesting element of Dylan's character. There's a lot going on in this chapter, and it's definitely a turning point for some of the characters—I won't tell you which. I'm incorporating some of the original elements of Season 3 into the plot, but I also take creative license with it. Enjoy, read, review at your leisure! :) Thanks for your continued support.

**Disclaimer: I do not own Beverly Hills, 90210 or any of its characters**

_She sat on an unfamiliar beach, watching the tide slowly roll in. She could feel the hot sand underneath her—and the sun overhead, beating down upon the landscape and making it hard to breathe. She had lain back upon the sand, closing her eyes. A shadow, however, brought her out of her lull quickly and without warning._

_ "I thought I'd find you here," His voice was deep and soulful, just as it always was when he talked to her. She opened her eyes, and made eye contact, studying their rich brown hue and admiring his toned physique. _

_ He sat down next to her, and had kissed her gently. As the kissing had escalated, they held each other close, rolling here and there in the sand, until they were parallel to one another, her legs situated so that she straddled him. They kissed with irreverent passion, the tide rolling in around them, the heat of no importance, the company of no notice. _

_ "Brenda," She heard the all too familiar voice echo out of nowhere. She'd seen Kelly's silhouette. She looked up, only to see Kelly and her red dress, wearing that expectant stare of hers. _

_ "Brenda," The voice became more masculine now, and she felt herself coming out of a fog. "Bren, you slept through your alarm." _

_ Alarm? _She didn't understand the meaning of this at first. When the room around her began to come into focus, however, she could clearly see Brandon standing in her room, already dressed, using her mirror to fix his hair. He gazed at her, his bright blue eyes vaguely curious.

"Bad dream?" He put his hands in his jean pockets and raised his eyebrows expectantly.

"I guess you could say that," Brenda sat up in her bed, crossing her legs. Her eye makeup was smeared and she noticed that her hair was disheveled and still a little wet. The scent of chlorine was still noticeable on her skin. She groggily got out of bed and walked to her closet, smiling to herself slightly when the memories of the previous night came back to her, refusing to let Kelly's appearance in her dream foul her mood. Brandon walked back to the bathroom as she undressed and picked out a floral dress and a jean jacket.

"Want to talk about it?" Brandon had posed the question casually as he could, but she could tell that he was snooping—if only just a little bit.

"I guess the whole Kelly thing is still freaking me out," She emerged from her closet, putting on her jean jacket and going to the bathroom to wipe off her eye makeup. She pushed Brandon to the side lightly. He gave her a long sidelong glance, not wanting to interject too quickly. "I always feel so on edge lately, like she's going to leap out at me. I thought I knew Kelly, Bran, but I'm not so sure anymore."

"I know how you feel," Brandon looked down, and then back up at his sister. "After yesterday, I wouldn't blame you if you just wanted to leave the whole Kelly situation alone."

Brenda looked at her reflection, tilting her head slightly. "As much as I'd like to say I'm going to, I'm not giving up on her." She picked up her brush, slowly running it through her tangled hair. "She was my best friend for a long time, Brandon. She may have hurt me really badly, but just because someone hurts you doesn't mean you stop loving them." She thought of Dylan and sighed. She knew what she was saying was true, even if she did want to hate Kelly—more than anything.

"What you're saying is all very admirable, but I don't want you to get hurt, Bren," Brandon glanced in the mirror, making eye contact with her. He knew that her mind was already made up, though. He knew she'd help Kelly no matter what he had to say about it.

"I appreciate the concern—Really, I do, but I'll be okay, Brandon. I think Kelly has hurt me as much as she can for the moment," Brenda returned to her room, reaching for her eyeliner. Brandon followed her, "Anything else will be just for added effect."

"If helping her is what you want to do, then I'm going to help you, Bren," Brandon stood at the edge of her bed, eyeing the picture of Kelly, Brenda, and Donna still positioned on Brenda's vanity. "I just don't know how we're going to do it."

"I think we'll know what to do when the time's right," Brenda finished applying her makeup and looked at Brandon. "Until then, we just have to wait."

"How can you be so calm about this now?" Brandon didn't sound exasperated, but, rather, very interested. "Yesterday Kelly was throwing everything she could at you, at full force. She was trying to beat you down. Don't take this the wrong way, but you're never one to lie down and take something like that."

"You're right," A faint smile spread across her face. "I guess I realized something yesterday, though. I was watching Dylan and his dad talking, and how angry Dylan was. I was thinking about how much I loved him, how much I wanted to take away his hurt. Then, for some weird reason, I thought about Kelly. I thought about how, at one point, I felt that same way about her. I wanted to help her so much, and I thought maybe, in some way, I had. I wanted her to be a part of our family and she became a part of our family. Then, it all changed—more suddenly than anyone ever imagined. When I found out about their summer together, it killed me a little bit inside. Even so, I still want to help her. I want to be there for her, even though she's doing her best to push me away."

Brandon simply stood and stared. He walked over to Brenda, placing his hand on her shoulder. "I always knew you were strong, Bren—but I never knew just how strong that was."

She smiled sincerely, turning around and looking him in the eye. "We both had to learn something from growing up on the mean, icy streets of Minneapolis." She winked.

Brandon laughed, pulling her into a hug. "How about you and I head to the Pit and order a huge, heaping stack of chocolate chip pancakes? Something tells me you'll need all the strength and stamina you have left to face Big Jim tonight."

Brenda pulled away, knitting her eyebrows together. "Yes to the pancakes, but as for the needing strength and stamina part, let's sincerely hope not."

Brandon laughed, and watched as Brenda walked out the door. He lingered for another minute. The ghost of evenings of long ago seemed embedded in the confines of this room. He could remember Kelly and Brenda gossiping on the bed, giggling about anything and everything, getting ready for dates, talking about Dylan— she used to be like a sister to him, but now he wasn't so sure. He had tried so hard to dispel the deeply-seated interest in her long before, fearing it would complicate matters. Now that she was in trouble, though, his feelings were hard to ignore.

"Bran, while we're young?" Brenda's impatient voice drifted up the stairwell. Brandon took another look at the picture as he grabbed the door knob, pulling it shut behind him.

* * *

><p>He stepped out of bed at half past ten, woken up by the urgent ringing of the phone. The first five rings he'd dared to ignore. He'd rolled over, putting a pillow over his head, when the call had gone to his voicemail. "<em>Hey it's Dylan; you know the drill."<em> When the rings sounded again, however, he reluctantly sat up in bed and walked to grab the phone in the living room.

"Yeah?" He was never a fan of being woken up after a late night—even if he had spent it with Brenda.

"I take it I woke you up, Dylan?" It took a moment for him to recognize the voice on the other end of the line. His eyes widened slightly as recognition set in.

"Iris," He said, blankly.

"That I am. I hope you don't mind I haven't rung you in a while, but I've been on the most amazing retreat on Kauai. No phones, no technology—just nature and meditation. It was wonderfully relaxing, Dylan, really—you should try it some time," Iris' drone caused Dylan to stiffen. He sighed, playing with the string on his surfing shorts. Almost as an afterthought, Iris spoke again, "You're probably wondering why I'm calling."

"That's one question I knew I wouldn't have to ask," Dylan smiled slightly. His parents were always so transparent in their motives.

"I'm coming for a visit," Iris announced without further prodding. "I was meditating this morning and I suddenly knew that my presence was needed there."

"That's really not necessary," Dylan wondered if someone had tipped her off that Jack was back in the picture.

"Dylan, I'm coming whether you want me to or not. I am not one to ignore gut feelings," He could hear her smile. "Besides, a little birdie tipped me off that you and Brenda are back together."

"How did you even know that we weren't—?" Dylan hesitated, thinking about who could have possibly told her anything.

"Now, Dylan, I'll be coming in around 10 P.M. on February 15th. If you don't mind, I'd like Brenda to be there when you pick me up," Dylan sighed; _But I do mind, _he felt like saying. The last thing he wanted was Brenda to have to be dragged into more unnecessary parental drama. "I'll expect to see you two then."

Dylan obviously couldn't argue at this point. "I'll be there," He said into the phone, hanging up before she had a chance to say anything else. He sighed again, making his way to his bathroom and to the shower.

He smiled a little when he saw Brenda's wet bikini top dangling on the faucet. What had begun as a simple attempt on her part to clean up before going home the previous night had escalated considerably, as it always did. He stayed in the shower for a while, just allowing the warm water to trickle down his back, thinking about her, about the night they spent together—he couldn't remember a time when things had been this perfect.

It didn't even matter that Iris was coming into town practically unannounced. All that mattered was that Brenda would be by his side, and that he had something particularly intimate planned for the evening before Iris' arrival.

As he got out of the shower and dried off with a towel, he heard the phone ring again. "Not again," He muttered, wrapping the towel around his waist. He walked to the living room, picking the phone up on the fifth ring.

"Hello?" His voice was raspy and his tone was, at this point, verging on irritated.

"Someone sounds grumpy this morning," Brenda's voice automatically put him at ease. He smiled again, picturing how perfect she'd looked the previous night.

"Yeah, well, you know how I can get," He shrugged, holding the phone between his shoulder and his chin. "I'm a bear in the morning."

"So I vaguely recall. I guess that means you're not up to joining us at the Pit for breakfast?" Brenda asked, a desire for his company obviously greatly hinted at.

"I think I could definitely go for some coffee if it means seeing you at the same time," He glanced over to the table where Brenda's picture still stood, upright and faithful. He'd never had the heart to move it after they'd broken up. He was pretty sure that Kelly and he had gotten into an argument over it once or twice. "Besides, with that whole insane gang fight that went down yesterday, I figure you and B need a buffer in case Sid and Nancy show up."

"Nice analogy," Brenda smiled into the phone. Dylan could hear Brandon urgently talking to someone in the background.

"See you in 5, Bren," He hung up and walked to his bedroom, throwing on jeans and a black t-shirt. He grabbed his keys and opened the door, not paying attention to the note that was slipped under the door that swiftly flew into the house. He put the keys in the ignition and started the engine, pulling out of the driveway and into the road.

* * *

><p>By the time Dylan entered the Peach Pit the gang had already gathered in their usual spot. Donna was sandwiched in the booth between Brandon and Brenda, and Steve and Andrea were sitting across from Brandon, talking with a great deal of enthusiasm about something Dylan automatically assumed dealt with girls. Brenda met Dylan's gaze from across the room, smiling slightly and motioning to the one empty seat located to her right.<p>

As he slipped in the booth beside her, he slipped his arm around her shoulder. Mornings like this were familiar, warm, and comfortable—good for Dylan's soul.

"All I'm saying is you should give it a shot, Bran," Steve moved his hands adamantly. Brandon took a sip of his coffee, trying to avoid making eye contact with him. "You're practically a monk these days, man. You are in dire need of some action."

"What is he talking about?" Dylan whispered into Brenda's ear, slipping his arm around her waist.

Brenda smiled, leaning over to him, "Steve wants Brandon to go on some cheesy dating game show."

"Now, that I would definitely pay to see," Dylan raised his eyebrows, putting his hand behind Brenda's neck and pulling her towards him. They kissed, oblivious to everyone around them.

"Will you two get a room or something?" Brandon turned to look at them, obviously already frustrated with Steve's constant prodding. Brenda pulled away reluctantly, licking her lips, and raising her eyebrows, glancing at her brother as Dylan put his arms around her waist again, kissing her cheek.

"Didn't they already do that?" Steve smirked, winking at Brenda as she blushed.

"Okay, new subject," Brandon looked down into his coffee cup, evading Steve's wry look. "Please, guys. Anyone? Just say anything."

"I got a call from Iris this morning," Dylan glanced at Brenda, and then to the rest of the group. "She's coming into town a little more than a week from now."

"Your mom and your dad—at the same place, at the same time? This has to be some distorted version of the Parent Trap or something," Steve remarked, coyly.

"Tell me about it," Dylan couldn't help but smile as Brenda placed a hand on his knee, rubbing it gently. "She said she was at some kooky retreat or something and she just knew that she had to come visit me. She also feels compelled to see Brenda—now that she knows we're back together." He looked towards Brenda.

Brenda looked down at her lap, fidgeting with her hands. "You know how my mom and Iris really hit it off when she visited last time?" Brenda made eye contact with Dylan again. She smiled nervously, as Dylan played with her hair.

"Let me guess: Cindy filled her in," Dylan threw her a half-smile and Brenda meekly nodded. Brandon, who still seemed somewhat uncomfortable, ordered another coffee on Dylan's behalf.

"So, what are our plans for Valentine's Day?" Andrea addressed the entire table, glancing from person to person.

Donna, who had been mostly quiet throughout breakfast, was the first to respond. "David and I were supposed to have big plans, but he found out that he's going to visit his mom for the weekend."

"And you two, Steve, Brandon?" Andrea switched her gaze to Brandon, who shrugged.

"I've got a whole lot of nothing going on," Brandon smiled, and then glanced towards Donna. "Guess we should form our own Lonely Hearts Club, huh?"

Donna giggled as Andrea looked towards Steve, who explained his game show scheme zealously.

"Well, I've got nothing planned, so maybe we can have our own little V-Day Bash," Andrea shrugged.

"You'll have to count us out, Andrea," Dylan pulled away from Brenda for a minute to look at Andrea. "I've got something _special_ planned for Brenda and me." He looked at Brenda, grinning, and Brenda giggled as he began to kiss her neck.

"Figures," Steve scoffed, "Well, I'm down. I'll bring my new date too, just so Brandon can see all that he's missing." He wiggled his eyebrows, and grinned at Andrea.

The door opened suddenly and David rushed in. He glanced around the room, frantically, finally seeing the gang and approaching them. "Guys, you better watch out for Kelly. She's on major rampage and I don't want—."

The bell on the door jingled and Kelly, dressed in a barely-there red dress, entered. Dylan gazed at Brenda, who studied her with worried eyes.

Brandon moved out of the booth, wearing the same look as Brenda. Donna walked to her immediately, accompanying David, who stood dumbly to the side. "So, I see we're hanging out with the Brat Pack." She seemed disoriented, and her eyes were bright red. "Guess loyalty is too much to ask for these days, huh?"

"Kelly, don't be like this," Donna put her hand on Kelly's shoulder.

"Don't be like what?" Kelly scoffed, raising her voice. People stopped to stare at her, some of the regulars preparing themselves for a repeat of the previous morning. "You see how you feel when all of your friends abandon you for that slut."

Brenda tried to move, but Dylan held her back. She gazed at him with fire in her eyes, and he merely squeezed her hand, trying to placate her wordlessly.

"Speaking of which, there she is," Kelly fixated her attention on Brenda. Brandon gaped, unsure of what to do. "How does it feel, Bren? You have my life, my friends, my summer fling."

"I think you've got this backwards, Kel," Brenda narrowed her eyes. "I'm pretty sure he was my boyfriend before he was your summer fling." Dylan tried to tighten his grasp on her, but she pulled away, gazing at him before rising to her feet, facing off with Kelly.

"I find it really sickening how you two can sit there and pretend like nothing happened," Kelly put her hands on her hips. "Like Dylan didn't already decide when he pursued me this summer that I was what he wanted."

"Kelly, stop this," Dylan stood up, trying to position himself in the middle of Brenda and Kelly. "What happened happened, and it's over."

"Like you're so mature and everything, Dylan—sit down and shut up. This is between Brenda and me," Kelly bit her lip.

"Now you're giving me orders?" Dylan stepped away, trying to not get sucked into an argument. "You are acting insane."

"Dylan," She put a hand on his chest, stepping forward towards Kelly. "Kelly, I want to help you, but you have to stop doing this. I don't want to fight with you."

"Are you sure, Bren?" Kelly asked sarcastically, her nostrils flaring. "Because for someone who doesn't like fighting, you do it with people a hell of a lot. You know what, Bren? Enjoy him. Enjoy my friends too—I don't want them anymore." She walked off towards the bathroom, stumbling a little bit on the way in. Brenda sighed, breathing in deeply. Dylan came to her side immediately, taking her hand in his.

Brandon looked towards the bathroom door, frozen in his place. Steve looked down, trying to evade everyone else's gaze. Andrea tried to speak, but it was almost impossible to say anything. Donna was crying, and David was holding her, staring off into space.

Brenda began to walk towards the bathroom, upon a gut decision. Dylan, still holding her hand, pulled her back. "Bren, I really, really don't want to see you hurt by her. I know you want to help her, but-."

"But nothing," She swallowed hard, "I want to help Kelly and I'm going to." She gazed at him once again before pulling away from him and heading to the bathroom.

* * *

><p>The bathroom was sealed in cold, stony silence as Brenda entered. She shuddered slightly, biting her lip when she noticed that it seemed completely empty. She walked slowly, almost afraid of what she would find. "Kelly?" She said, quietly at first. "Kelly?" She repeated, louder this time.<p>

She approached the stalls warily. She kicked open the first door, and found it empty. She repeated this with the next three stalls, until she reached the fifth. She took a deep breath, opening the stall slowly, her heart beating fast as she saw Kelly, arms outstretched around the toilet. Vomit covered the floor. A small, empty white vile rattled around on the floor beneath Brenda's feet.

"Kelly!" She screamed, turning her over. Her eyes were shut and her breathing was shallow. She made a quick decision, picking her up, dragging her to the bathroom door, opening it and finding Dylan and Brandon on the other side.

"Call an ambulance," Brenda cried hysterically. "Go, Brandon!" Brandon frantically ran for the payphone. Brenda held on to Kelly, not knowing what to do.

"Lay her flat, Bren," Dylan attempted to say it to her calmly, but it was to no avail. "She'll be alright; just let go of her, Bren." He wished he could believe those words himself. Brenda let go of her, crouching down to her side. At this point, Donna, David, Steve, and Andrea were rushing to be by Kelly's side, Donna crying, Steve red-faced and confused, David burying his head in Kelly's hair.

Dylan crouched beside Brenda, holding her tightly and kissing her forehead. Nat, who had just now noticed the scene, was pushing people away, trying to clear the place before the ambulance arrived.

Brandon rushed back once the ambulance was on its way, and crouched beside Brenda as well. They all were frozen in this moment, trying their best, in their separate ways, to keep it all together, when it all was seeming to fall apart.

** Endnote: I know that Brenda should be pretty mad at Kelly and, in a way, she still is, but I've always seen Brenda as a true, loyal friend, and I know she would help Kelly if she needed it. I know I didn't do much build-up to Kelly's collapse, but I thought since it was already included in Season 3 that some basic foreshadowing would be okay. The next chapter will be up within the next few days. What to expect? A Brenda and Kelly discussion for the ages and far more B/D moments, I can tell you that much. Keep reading and reviewing, loves! **


	21. Enjoy the Silence

Okay, guys, don't kill me! I know it's been a long while since I updated. I blame summer break. Too many people to see, too many things to do! Not to mention that 90's shows are now on Teen Nick (my 90's kid heart is happy) and I'm dutifully preparing for college. I promise to update more steadily in the future! I don't like to be kept hanging on a story either. So, in this chapter, you'll find out what's become of Kelly and how Brenda is dealing with the situation as a whole. Where will they go from here? Guess you'll have to keep reading to find out! Thank-you for the reviews and please continue to read (and review, of course). Without further delay, I give you the conclusion to Kelly's overdose nightmare.

**Disclaimer: I do not own Beverly Hills, 90210 or any of its characters. Suing me is a major waste of time and energy.**

Dylan had led her to the car from the Peach Pit, asking her several times, in several different ways, if she was sure she was up to going to the hospital. She merely nodded. She couldn't speak. She'd allowed herself to cry briefly in Brandon's arms, but after that, the tears had stopped. There had only been blankness and a pale, almost morbidly silent Brenda that couldn't even be cracked by Brandon's silent, careful understanding.

She watched the passing lights of West Hollywood pass by rather absently. She was lost in thought, lost in shock. She'd been like this for the entire drive—Dylan had glanced at her every once in a while, trying to read her expression. Perhaps the mystery in her eyes came from the fact that she, herself, had no idea how she felt about the situation.

They pulled into the parking lot of Cedar-Sinai in a matter of ten minutes or so, following Brandon's packed Mustang closely. Steve rode in the passenger seat and Andrea, Donna, and David were piled into the backseat. Although they could have taken Donna's car, they'd opted to be together at this point. With a group of them there, it seemed less likely for everyone to fall apart.

Dylan gazed at Brenda again as they pulled into a parking space close to the Emergency Room. He sighed, wringing his hands, "Bren, I know I've asked you this a thousand times, but are you _sure_ you're okay with this?" Brenda was glancing towards her brother's car, where David was helping a frazzled Donna out of the car. "Kelly might be in worse shape than any of us originally thought."

"I'm going to be okay, Dylan," She said faintly, trying to hold back the tears. She opened the car door and slammed it shut. She stood there for a minute, looking at the ground.

Dylan had approached her, placing his hands lightly on her hips. "You don't have to be strong all the time, Bren," She looked up at him, and he could see the tears forming. "If you're not sure you can handle this, let's leave right now."

"I think I can handle just about anything at this point, Dylan. You know, I do want to leave, though," She bit her lip, "The thing is, I can't. I don't think you can either."

Dylan furrowed his eyebrows, trying to understand. "I can do anything if it's going to put you more at ease. I'm here for you, Bren."

"Kelly needs my help," Brenda said, regaining a little composure. "She needs _our_ help. She's been awfully antagonistic for a while now, but I can't say I don't love the girl. You can't say you don't care about her either."

"Bren, the feelings that I felt for her, they were all so manufactured," Dylan raised his eyebrows. "The truth is I barely know the girl. That may seem insensitive to say, but it's the truth."

She paused, glancing down. "Dylan, as much as I hate to say this, you wouldn't have a romantic attachment to a girl who didn't mean anything. I think you know and care about her more than you're letting on." A tear ran down her cheek.

"Brenda," Brandon called from a few spaces down, just as Dylan reached forward to wipe her tear. "You coming?" He was clearly anxious and jittery as he made his way to them.

"Yeah, Bran," She folded her arms, sniffling. "You go ahead."

Brandon nodded and ran to catch up with Steve, Andrea, Donna, and David who were already approaching the entrance.

"Brenda, I want to make one thing very clear," Dylan put his hand on her cheek, stroking it, "I am here for you, first and foremost. Do I care about Kelly? Yeah, of course I do. There is nothing that holds Kelly and me together besides you, though. Thinking that there was anything more than that to our relationship—it was a huge mistake."

Brenda gazed at him for another moment, as he put his arms around her, pulling her into an embrace. Then, relinquishing every single ounce of rigidness within her, she stood there for a while, letting him hold her.

He nuzzled her neck, and she smiled as he kissed her, on the neck and on her cheek, "I love you, Bren."

"I love you too, Dylan," She was crying, by that point. Dylan kissed her forehead, holding her head with one hand and her waist with the other.

Five minutes passed without so much as a word, before Brenda finally broke the silence.

"I think we should go," She said, wiping her tears as Dylan grabbed her hand.

"Then go we shall," Dylan leant over as they began to walk and kissed her cheek. Brenda had stopped him, briefly, putting her hand on his cheek, kissing him and then leading him towards the entrance.

* * *

><p>By the time Dylan and Brenda had caught up with the remainder of the group, Jackie was at the counter, talking frantically to a nurse who, in turn, seemed to have no idea how to interpret the words coming out of her mouth. Brenda put her hand on her brother's arm, exchanging looks with him.<p>

"Jackie's going to have a nervous breakdown," David swallowed hard as he and Donna walked back towards Brandon, Brenda, and Dylan. "Actually, I think _I'm_ going to have a nervous breakdown." He looked down, putting one hand in his pocket. Donna held the other.

"Silver, it's going to be okay, man," Steve, who had walked with Andrea to a payphone so that she could call her grandma, rejoined the group. "Kelly's going to be okay."

"You don't know that," David had said, noticing that Steve didn't seem very convinced by his words either.

"She's going to be okay," Brenda spoke up suddenly. All eyes were suddenly fixated on her. Dylan rubbed her shoulder lightly. "She has to be." Her voice was strained, soft, and low. Brandon nodded, examining his sister, not knowing what to say or do.

"Why can't you tell me how my own daughter is doing?" Jackie cried frantically. She was crying hysterically at this point. "I am her mother, damn it!" David ran in Jackie's direction quickly, grabbing a hold of her as her sobs grew louder.

Brenda hung her head, as Brandon and Dylan both held onto her. Steve was sadly looking on, holding lightly onto Andrea's arm. Donna just fidgeted with her hands uncomfortably.

At some point, when Jackie and David had disappeared behind a set of doors colored an almost sickly shade of pale blue, the gang had taken seats in the waiting room. The cloyingly sweet, sterile smell of the hospital and the constant creaking of stretcher wheels and wheelchairs served to unnerve them all. Brandon excused himself to get coffee several times. Brenda merely stared ahead, as unresolved as ever.

In time, Donna came to sit beside Brenda. They were silent for a while, but after a long stretch of quiet contemplation, Donna found the right words to say.

"Bren?" Donna's eyes were wide as Brenda turned to face her. "I'm scared."

"Me too, Donna," Brenda looked down, and realized she was quivering. Deep-seated resentment was still hanging within her gut, but it was dissipating. There was fear. There was worry. When she said she was scared, she knew that she was telling the truth.

Late afternoon was heavily silent. Eventually, Brenda accepted Dylan's offer to go get something to eat at the hospital cafeteria. Anticipation rose as the hours went by and Jackie and David still hadn't returned with word of Kelly's state.

Hours rolled by. Night fell and Brandon called Cindy and Jim again to let them know they were staying at the hospital for a while. Brandon granted Steve the keys to his car to drop off Andrea, who made the gang promise to update her on Kelly as soon as they found out themselves. By the time David emerged from the depths of the all too elusive inner chambers of the Intensive Care unit, Donna had fallen asleep on Brenda's shoulder and Brandon, now wired from 3 plus cups of coffee, paced around the room anxiously.

As soon as she caught sight of David, Brenda gently shrugged Donna off of her shoulder and squeezed Dylan's hand before letting go of him. She approached David, whose eyes and face were red. As Brandon joined them from the other end of the waiting room, Brenda threw her arms around David, as he cried into her shoulder.

"She almost died, Brenda," He whispered into her ear. _Almost_. The sentence hardly sounded anything less than grim, but that word gave her hope.

"Is she alright?" Brandon asked, quietly.

"They stabilized her. She's still unconscious, but they pumped her stomach and her heart rate is returning to normal. She was taking an over-the-counter diet pill—way more than the recommended dose. Donna told me about how much she was taking, but I didn't really pay attention. I just figured she was going on one of her diets again," David looked down. Brenda could tell he was feeling guilty. "I thought something was wrong last night. She came home really late; Jake dropped her off. There was yelling outside. I think they got into a fight. I went downstairs to see what was going on, and she was pouring pills into her hand. I didn't want her to freak out on me, so I went upstairs again. She mixed them with cocaine, they think. Jackie had a stash in her bathroom and she said it had disappeared." David sighed, putting his hands on his hips. "I can't help but think maybe I could've done something about it."

"David, you had no way of knowing," David looked into her eyes, nodding slightly and a little sadly. Brenda put her hand on his shoulder, trying to comfort him in whatever way she could. Brandon nodded, looking down, grabbing a hold of Brenda's free hand.

Dylan, who had nodded off, woke up as Brenda, Brandon, and David stood in the middle of the waiting room floor. He stood up, watching Brenda, wondering what had happened in the time he'd been asleep.

He watched as Brenda hugged David once more before turning around to face Dylan. She ran to him, embracing him, tears streaming down her cheeks. "She's going to be okay, Dylan," She said as he put one arm around her waist and the other on the back of her head.

He sighed in relief, kissing Brenda's forehead, holding onto her for a long time. As they stood there, Jackie emerged from the double doors, approaching the gang at a rapid pace. They all stood and faced her as she came, Brenda biting her lip slightly as Jackie fixated her gaze on her.

"I want to thank you, first and foremost, Brenda. If you hadn't have gone after her when you did, she probably would have been in far worse shape. Right now she's awake and she's being transferred to a recovery unit. She's very weak, but she's requested to see you," Jackie watched as the tears continue to fall down Brenda's cheeks. "I know things haven't been the same between you two lately, but I do know that Kelly loves you like a sister. You were there for her when I wasn't. Your parents were there for her when I wasn't. I won't put words in her mouth, but I know that at least a part of her felt very guilty about what went on between you two."

Brenda looked down, playing with her hands absently. "I'm not sure if that's such a good idea right now."

"It would mean a lot to her if you talked to her, Brenda. It really would," Jackie watched as Brenda slowly nodded, processing the words, careful as to not show much emotion.

"Kelly has been and always will be like a sister to me. If it means that much, then I'll talk to her. What room is she in?" Her heart began to beat faster in anticipation of the event. She knew that Brandon and Dylan were listening in on the conversation, and that Dylan was probably shaking his head, muttering some comment to Brandon about her bravery.

"I really appreciate this, Brenda. I know Kelly does too. Why don't you just follow me?" Jackie smiled weakly and a little nervously. Brenda folded her arms, not glancing back to anyone as she walked beside Jackie, down a hallway and to a large, spacious elevator—a waiting room now, in its own right.

* * *

><p>She was nauseous as they approached Room 117. The door was open, and it was sickeningly silent as they entered the sterile room. There was a tiny bathroom with handicap rails installed to the right, and beyond the narrow passageway between the door to the bathroom and the original entrance was the main room. It was pretty bare, save for a TV against the wall and a small nightstand next to the bed. Kelly's eyes were fixated on the wall in front of her. She was hooked up to several IV's, but she had been taken off of a respirator in the hour since she'd been in recovery. She glanced at Jackie, and then locked eyes with Brenda. For the first time ever, Kelly Taylor looked small—small and weak and fragile.<p>

There was a moment of uncomfortable silence. Jackie looked back and forth from Brenda to Kelly, and then gently dismissed herself as Brenda neared the bed.

"You really scared us, Kel," Brenda uttered softly. She was standing at Kelly's bedside now, trying her best to hold herself together.

"I really scared myself," Kelly looked down, and then back up at Brenda. Her voice was strained. "I was so out of control. I couldn't tell anyone either. After all, I did a pretty killer job of alienating all my friends."

"Well, I won't make any excuses for you, Kelly. You've tested the bounds of friendship a hell of a lot lately," Brenda bit her lip. "When push comes to shove, though, you're still my best friend, and I still love you. That doesn't change just because you hurt me, even though you hurt me a lot."

"I don't even know what to say to that," Kelly looked away. "I don't know how you can even look at me after everything's that happened. The truth is, Brenda, I never deserved you as a friend. I don't think I deserve anyone as a friend after today."

Brenda couldn't say anything. She merely listened.

"A long time ago, I told you I'd never try to take Dylan away from you. You remember that night?" Brenda smiled a little wistfully. She nodded as Kelly looked back at her. "I was thinking about how much has changed since that. We used to talk about everything, Bren—and this summer, that all changed. I suddenly started lying. I didn't think about your feelings. All I thought about was how badly I wanted your life. I was so jealous of you for so long, and once I had a little taste of what it was to be Brenda Walsh, I was overtaken with desire."

"Why would you want my life, Kelly?" Brenda eyed her, not able to be gentle in the way she spoke. The anger was swiftly returning. "Every girl in the school wants to be you. Every guy in the school wants to be with you. You're Kelly Taylor—you have everything. Looks, money, sex appeal. I'm little old Brenda Walsh from Minnesota."

Kelly scoffed a little. "You underestimate yourself, Brenda. You're the only girl in school who has ever rivaled me in any of those departments. Let's look at hard facts: Out of every girl in the school, Dylan McKay chose to go out with you. I guess that was the start of it all. Then I saw your family, I saw your happiness, and how in love Dylan was with you. Everything was so perfect. It wasn't fair. When Dylan came on to me, I should've said no. I didn't, though. I was so happy—because, for once, one thing that seemed exclusively yours, a little piece of your paradise, was partly mine. What I didn't realize, though, was the fact that I'd always be second best to Brenda Walsh. I was fool's gold and you were the real deal."

"If I was the real deal, Dylan would have never gone running to you, Kel," Brenda put her hands on her hips, hurt a little by the truth.

"That's not true and you know it," Kelly shook her head, looking Brenda in the eyes again. "He was running away from something and I was just there. I'm sorry, Bren. I really am." A tear ran down her cheek. "I can't believe I did the things I did."

"It's over now," Brenda said, though she knew that she hadn't completely let it all go. "We should just forget about it."

"You and I both know this will never be forgotten," Kelly smiled sadly, shaking her head. "We'll never be back to where we were, will we?"

"Maybe not," Brenda answered, reaching for her hand. She grasped it with both hands, tears running down her cheeks too. "I do know that I'm going to be here for you, though. Like it or not, we're sisters. You have to promise me one thing, though."

"What's that?" Kelly smiled, a little wider.

"You won't ever do anything this stupid again," Brenda returned the smile, squeezing her hand.

"I solemnly swear," Sincerity was seated deeply within Kelly's eyes. "I'm never doing anything like this again."

"I hope not, Kel," Brenda looked at her, letting her hand go and folding her arms. "I don't think I could take much more of this."

"Trust me when I say you don't have to worry about me, Bren," Brenda knew the sentence had more than one meaning; nothing else had to be added. The meaning could easily be read through the silence.

"You up for more visitors, Kelly?" Donna poked her head in the room, followed by David, Brandon, and Steve. Brenda glanced towards the doorway and saw Dylan meekly leaning against the door frame.

"The more the merrier," Kelly said, cheerfully. She gave Brenda one more meaningful glance, and then turned towards Donna to give her a hug. Brenda smiled, and then glanced to Brandon, who gave her a short, reassuring glance. She then dismissed herself, going back towards the door, where Dylan eyed her, his brown eyes full of concern.

"How is she?" Dylan asked, as he grasped Brenda's hand.

"She's doing well," Brenda gave him a small smile, leading him out into the hallway. "I think she's gonna be fine."

"Hey, that's good news," He placed his hand around her waist, kissing her forehead.

"Yeah, it really is," Brenda grinned, pecking him on the lips. He bit his lip coyly, raising his eyebrows. "I think we're going to be alright too, Dyl," She gazed at him, as they stopped in the middle of the hallway.

"I think so too, Bren," He kissed her on the cheek, pulling her close to him. "I think so too."

After another lingering moment, they walked hand in hand down the hallway, towards the exit, knowing that whatever it took them to get to this point was very well worth it.


	22. Blue Valentine

I'M BACK. Are you excited? I know I am! So, I haven't updated in a really, really, really long time. I'm sorry about that! I started college (fanfiction college homework, in case you were wondering). Lots and lots and lots of stuff going on in my head concerning this story. This chapter is just a starter. It deals mostly with Brenda's reaction to Kelly's recovery and Kelly's first day back at school. Will Brenda and Kelly regain their friendship? Just what does Brenda have up her sleeve concerning keeping Kelly away from Dylan? And how in the world are we going to fix the whole Brandon-being-single problem? Stay tuned to find out. I will update soon. I promise.

**Disclaimer: I don't own Beverly Hills, 90210 or any of its characters. Really. Seriously. I know it's hard to believe!  
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On an unusually warm February morning, Brenda and Brandon made their way out to Brandon's mustang. Brenda was thoughtfully gnawing on a muffin and Brandon was impatiently slurping down a formerly full thermos of black coffee as he inserted the keys into the ignition and turned them, starting the engine.

It was a Friday, just before the big Valentine's Day Rush—and while one of the Walshes was eagerly anticipating Sunday with a familiar variety of curiosity, the other was quickly growing very aware of being incredibly, incredibly available.

They drove along Hillcrest and off onto a connecting road, making small talk until Brandon, finishing the last of his coffee, dared to break the superficiality. "Kelly's first day back at school, huh?"

"That's what Donna tells me," Brenda looked down at her lap, brushing crumbs from her muffin off of her lap. "I guess she's doing really well. She's apparently attending an eating disorder support group, and her mom has been dragging her to AA and NA since she's been home."

"It sounds like Kelly and Jackie really have a handle on this," Brandon glanced at his sister. She was still looking down, obviously deep in thought about something.

"It think they do. At least, I hope they do," Brenda looked up, and then looked towards the window.

Brandon glanced at her, concerned. "How are you feeling about all of this?"

Brenda paused. She fidgeted with her hands, as she finally spoke. "I guess I'm feeling happy and apprehensive at the same time. I'm glad to have Kelly back, but still—there's that lingering bit of resentment and fear that the same thing will happen again."

"You don't think that Kelly and Dylan have learned their lessons from all this, Bren?" Brandon eyed her, raising his eyebrows.

"Look, the only thing I know is that I never saw something like that coming. For all I know, it could happen again." Brenda shook her head. "I don't want to let my guard down with either one of them. I'm scared as hell to be anything less than entirely vigilant."

"You're perfectly entitled to feel that way and be suspicious, Bren, but, at some point, you're going to have to trust them and hope they've seen the light," Brandon shrugged, and Brenda sighed, looking out the window, knowing that he was at least partially right.

Brenda and Brandon passed endless city blocks entirely rapt in thought. Eventually, they neared West Beverly and, at a traffic light, caught sight of Steve Sanders' Corvette idled, his curly, blonde head holding his car phone in place against his shoulder.

Brandon bit his lip anxiously, slowing down. Brenda looked over at him, furrowing her eyebrows. "Okay, Brandon. What gives?"

Brandon sighed, a little flustered. "Steve gave up on roping me into the game show thing, but now he's trying to get me to go to some sort of party that he and Andrea are hosting for sad, pathetic, single losers," Brandon scoffed. "Then Steve is going to waltz in with some completely out-of-this-world babe and I'm just going to be sitting next to Donna and Andrea, who will probably be bitching about David and eventually, about men in general."

"Do you really think if it was a party for 'sad, pathetic, single losers' Steve would have any part in it? And wasn't this your idea to begin with, Bran? Donna and Andrea aren't the only girls who are going to be there," Brenda raised her eyebrows. "In fact, Donna is inviting a few friends—and Kelly, of course."

"Kelly?" Brandon repeated, curious now. "Why would Kelly come to some to some stupid Valentine's Day party when she's trying to recover? And why would you even mention her name?"

"Because she's single, Bran, and unless there are tons of eligible guys with happening rides in Cedars-Sinai, I'm guessing she doesn't have a date," The wheels were turning in Brenda's head. Suddenly, a solution to her worries was in the works. "I just mentioned her name because I thought you should know."

Brandon gave her a knowing smile and shook his head. "Bren, it's not going to happen," Brandon shook his head, although the idea was tugging on his heart strings. "Kelly and I decided a long time ago that we shouldn't overstep the bounds of friendship. Neither one of us see each other as anything more than that."

"Don't kid yourself. You have _always_ had thing for her, Brandon and I'm pretty sure that goes both ways. Think about it," Brenda reached for the door handle as they pulled into a parking spot. "After everything that has happened since the Spring Dance, I'm sure that a romantic relationship between you two wouldn't be the strangest thing to happen."

"How did you know about what happened at the Spring Dance?" Brandon suddenly looked worried, furrowing his eyebrows, intent on prying for information.

"You two were making out in the middle of the dance floor. I hardly think it was some big secret." Brenda laughed lightly at her brother's squirming. Brenda glanced towards West Beverly's quad, spotting Andrea and Donna sitting on a bench and talking. Uttering a simple 'see you later' to her brother, Brenda walked over to the two quickly, fearing that the bell would ring at any given moment.

"Do you think Kelly would actually come if I invited her?" She overheard Andrea asking Donna as she approached the duo.

"I doubt it, but I mean, hey—we can try," Donna shrugged, "Besides, I happen to know for a fact that Jackie is pretty much nagging Kel to death, so she might be dying to get out of the house."

Brenda smiled, holding on to her notebook as she came in on Donna's last thought. "I think Kelly coming to the party is a great idea, guys. I could even talk to her about it if you like."

Donna smiled at her friend, obviously amused. "You're not even coming to the party, Bren!"

"Yeah, don't you have a hot date with Mr. Romance himself?" Andrea fluttered her eyelashes in jest.

"Hey, I am just looking out for your party's well-being," Brenda grinned, catching a glimpse of Dylan, standing on the opposite end of the quad.

"So, I guess that means you're coming with me at lunch while I try to convince Kelly to come?" Donna smiled hopefully, while Brenda still eyed Dylan, whose come-hither stare had her transfixed. "Hello? Earth to Brenda?" Donna said, waving her hands to try to regain Brenda's attention.

She bit her lip, turning her attention momentarily back to Andrea and Donna. "Yeah, lunch, Kelly. I'll be there," Brenda gave them a quick smile, waving good-bye and making her way to Dylan.

Donna and Andrea exchanged glances and laughed as Brenda approached Dylan, who waited for her expectantly, leaning against a pillar in the shade. She couldn't help but check him out as he faced her. He was smirking slightly, his hand shoved into one pocket. He wore black Ray Bans, a white t-shirt that clung tightly to his firm chest, and peg-leg jeans, rolled up to his shins. He was, as always, bronze, and his brown hair was slicked back once again. These days, he was looking very much like West Beverly's answer to James Dean.

"Trying out for Jim Stark today, are we?" She winked, as he smiled.

"Something like that," He bit his lip, before putting his arms around her, kissing her forehead, and then moving down to her lips. She smiled and pressed her nose against his, his hand slipping to squeeze her butt playfully, then finally grasping her hand and walking with her down the hallway.

The hallways of West Beverly were decorated extensively. Posters lined the walls and pink and red streamers were draped over lockers as far as the eye could see. Advertisements for candy-grams and flower arrangements were stacked one over the other on the bulletin boards, and hearts with lace trim were clumsily pasted onto the walls.

"There's love in the air. Can't you just feel it?" Brenda smirked, folding her arms as Dylan examined his surroundings, wrinkling his nose.

"Honestly?" Dylan shrugged. "It looks like Cupid threw up in here," Dylan tilted his head, as Brenda laughed, grasping his forearm.

"You always were such a romantic," Brenda clasped her arms together, feigning a dramatic sigh.

"You calling _this _romance? This is propaganda. Leave the romance to me," Dylan pulled her closer, kissing her lightly on the lips and then dipping her down until her head almost touched the floor.

"Mm, that I may," Brenda grinned as Dylan let out a playful growl. Their lips met, Dylan grasping the nape of her neck as he gradually pulled her by the waist, until they were parallel once again.

"Okay, okay, enough you two," Ms. Teasley teasingly scolded them, wagging a finger as she and Brandon approached them.

Brandon playfully winced, rubbing his eyes. "Enough with the kissing and the hugging and the touching. I'm definitely bringing the hose out next time."

"Oh, c'mon, Bran. Since when did you turn into such a grandpa?" Brenda asked sardonically, putting her hands on her hips as Dylan bit his lip, gazing at her and then glancing back at Brandon and Ms. Teasley.

"Someone's getting a little touchy about a certain upcoming holiday, I take it?" Miss Teasley smiled, giving Brenda a knowing look.

"I mean, it's like they're trying to throw love in our faces, and they treat us like losers if we happen to be single. I don't need to have a valentine to validate my existence. I don't need giant bags of candy from a secret admirer. Girls are all so demanding anyway, and being single is by far the most fulfilling thing I've experienced as of yet. You can quote me on that," Brandon folded his arms and glanced pointedly at his sister, who was smirking at him.

Dylan lightly let go of Brenda, moving over to Brandon's side, patting his shoulder and then throwing his arm over Brandon's shoulder. "You, my man, are definitely in need of a girl—just any girl. Pick one—any one standing in this hallway. I'll be your wingman. 1-2-3, go."

Brenda grinned as she watched Brandon shoot Dylan a dirty look. Dylan shrugged as if to say 'what? Just trying to help'. In another moment, Brenda caught sight of Steve Sanders, walking arm in arm with Kelly. She looked disheveled—falling in a category that was less than the perfection Brenda had known her to often attain. would've, before today, gotten a strange sort of satisfaction in that. Now, though—now everything was different.

Steve and Kelly looked like they were in the midst of a deep conversation as they finally saw the gang gathered in front of them. Steve grinned, leaving Kelly slightly behind as approached Brandon. Kelly looked quite out of place. She stood quietly, knowing that everyone in that hallway knew exactly what had happened to her and why.

Brenda, who had found her way back to Dylan within that moment, touched his hand lightly and then walked towards Kelly, her heart beating fast. She didn't know what to expect. Kelly had, indeed, seemed to reconcile with her on that evening not too long before, but she didn't know how concrete that reconciliation was. Her heart was racing, and her stomach slightly nauseous as she approached her old friend.

"It's great to have you back," Brenda smiled sincerely, as Kelly looked into her eyes.

"It's good to be back, Bren," Kelly returned the smile, wrapping her arms around Brenda and hugging her, for the first time in a very long period of time.

As Kelly briefly opened her eyes, head rested on Brenda's shoulder, she felt better than she had all morning. She looked up to the gang, only to see Brandon's bright blue eyes fixated on her.

* * *

><p>The quad was empty as Brenda came to sit on the bench that the fountain provided. She had gotten out of class early and had needed some time to think—without the hordes of freshman girls with too much makeup on rushing by or the jocks throwing footballs on the lawn. She sat in silence for a minute, just taking it all in. She was a senior now and it was hard to believe that once upon a time, she'd roamed these halls as a lowly sophomore, trailing Kelly around like a lost puppy dog.<p>

It was her relationship with Kelly that had gone through the most transformation during her time at West Beverly. She'd, at first, revered her and thought her to be absolutely perfect, in absolutely every way. She'd, little by little, discovered that this perfection was pretended, though—and her idolization of Kelly diminished significantly, until they were almost on the same level. Dating Dylan had not only introduced adventure into her formerly tame life—it had made her level to Kelly, a peer to her. She no longer depended on her. She stood on her own. That was the glory year of her relationship with Kelly—when they were equals, ruling the school without so much as trying.

She had never realized, throughout that whole time period, that Kelly might have resented her. It had never so much as crossed her mind, until she had found out about what had happened over the summer—until Kelly's rash behavior had convinced her that maybe it wasn't just the pills talking. So, where could they go from here? Where would they go from here?

A spurt of noise from the building startled her, and she saw that a group of students was beginning to drift into her formerly peaceful quad, leaving her antsy and ill at ease. She looked down at her lap, not knowing what to do—suddenly worried about her friendship with Kelly, like she had never been before.

"There you are," Donna approached her. She was obviously excited. It was written all over her face. "I've been looking all over for you. David's sitting with Kelly on the lawn right now, so now's our opportunity!"

"Don, you know I really want Kelly to go, but I'm not so sure that I'm the best person to talk to her right now," Brenda shrugged, taking in Donna's evident surprise and disappointment.

"Oh, Bren, don't back out on me now," She pouted, sticking one red stained lip out exaggeratedly. "C'mon. Just one favor."

"Just one?" Brenda repeated, cracking a slight smile.

"I knew you'd crack," Donna winked, and then linked her arm with Brenda's, strolling with her across the lawn. Brenda's heart nearly stopped when she saw Dylan sitting adjacent from Kelly and David, seemingly very cheerful and at ease.

She froze in her spot for a moment. Donna glanced at her, grasping her wrist, and pulling her towards the group forcibly. Dylan caught her eye, smiling at her, and patting the grass, motioning for her to take a seat. She complied, as Donna took a seat next to David.

"So, it looks like everyone got out of class early today," Brenda remarked, her voice holding a slight twinge of coldness in it.

"Not me. I actually rushed over here, hoping to find you before Steve did. He's trying to rope us into coming to the party too," Dylan shuddered mockingly. "Parties and I—we don't mix well. That's well established." Dylan reached for Brenda's hand, which rested on her inner thigh. His touch instantly put all her qualms to rest, though the anxiety was still just below the surface.

"Don't I know it? You're better one on one, isn't that right?" Brenda grinned, as Dylan planted a kiss on her forehead, and then on her lips.

"Right you are, Signorina Walsh," He winked, and turned back to the group. Brenda glanced to Kelly, who was staring uncomfortably into her lap. She was suddenly reminded of all those lunches in the beginning of senior year in which the same exact thing had happened—she shivered, biting her lip and trying to calm herself down.

Lunch hour went by quickly, and when David had left at the announcement's beckoning and Dylan had left for his AP Literature class, only Brenda, Donna, and Kelly remained. Donna chatted endlessly, while Brenda and Kelly responded with small, simple phrases from time to time. This went on until Donna finally worked up to her chief objective: convincing Kelly to join in on the Valentine's Day festivities.

"I'm sure Steve's mentioned the party we're having on Sunday to you, Kelly," Donna sipped at her mineral water thoughtfully. "I've been thinking about it and we'd all really like you to come. You haven't hung out with us all in so long and it'd be kind of a reunion sort of thing."

Donna glanced towards Brenda, who had nothing to say at the moment. Kelly was folding her arms, not looking Donna in the eye.

"Look, Donna, I don't think going to parties is a good idea right now," Kelly looked up. "I honestly just need to be on my own for a little bit."

"Kel, it'd mean a lot if you came," Donna put one hand on Kelly's shoulder. "I know that Brandon and Steve were talking about how it wouldn't be the same without you."

"Only because I'm a charity case now. Everyone feels sorry for me," Kelly mumbled after taking a sip of her lemonade.

"Come on. That's not true at all," Donna interjected, as Brenda finally prepared to say something.

"They want you to go, Kel. It has nothing to do with feeling sorry for you," Brenda didn't feel like comforting her in the slightest, but she talked herself into it. She needed to do this. She wanted to do this, deep, deep down—maybe deeper than she could consciously detect.

"Brenda, Donna, you can't honestly tell me that you all don't see me differently after all of this. It hasn't exactly been my shining year," She looked up and then back down at her lap.

"No, it hasn't. It hasn't been for any of us," Brenda shrugged. "That doesn't mean we can't still have fun, though. We're seniors. We're supposed to be having the time of our lives."

"Yeah, time of our lives. So much for that," Kelly scoffed. "You're not even coming, Bren. Why do you want me to go so badly?"

"Honestly?" Brenda asked, raising one eyebrow.

"Honestly," Kelly repeated, crossing her legs.

"Brandon asked me to make sure you came," She knew it was a fib, but he might as well have said it. She knew that he was hoping Kelly came—even if he wouldn't admit it.

"Brandon?" Kelly repeated, thinking back to his eyes, transfixed on her earlier in the hallway.

"Yes, Brandon," Donna bit her lip excitedly, knowing where Brenda was going with this.

"I'll have to think about it, Bren," Kelly smiled a little bit. Could it be that Brandon, who she had perpetually crushed on since that day, way back when, when they'd noticed each other at Mary Anne Moore's party, was finally returning the sentiment? Her curiosity was getting the best of her.

"Kelly?" Donna smiled, knowingly.

"Okay, okay, you convinced me," Kelly giggled, looking down again, and then looking Brenda in the eye again. Brenda smiled, knowing that everything was playing out exactly as she planned.

The bell rang in the distance, and the three girls sprung to their feet, filled with new exuberance. "Well, the bell tolls for me," Brenda grinned, dramatically waving good-bye to her two friends. Just as she had turned her back to them, Kelly's voice called out for her to wait. She found herself falling into step with Kelly as Donna went the other direction.

"So, that Brandon thing—did he really ask about me?" Kelly suddenly had the enthusiasm of a schoolgirl.

"That he did," Brenda laughed, amused at Kelly's mood shift.

"Will you tell him that I'm coming for me? Just casually. Don't make a big deal about it—just let him know," Kelly held her books tighter to her chest, thinking about his eyes again.

"I will, Kel. No worries," Brenda grinned, walking off towards her class, knowing that neither one of them had a chance in the world at resisting one another.

For once, a plan of hers was working fantastically well.

**What did you guys think? Is Brenda pushing too hard for a Brandon/Kelly union? Let me know what YOU think! REVIEW. Next chapter will be about the V-Day Bash; plenty of excitement in store. Hope you're still out there, readers!  
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	23. Hello, I Love You

Hey, guys! I'm back yet again. I continue this time to write more, even if I'm lazy and consumed with school work. I hope you guys are still there! We pick up where we left off. The Valentine's Day Bash is at hand. This chapter is more focused on Brandon and, later, on Kelly, but I am planning on doing a pretty B/D-centric chapter centered around their Valentine's Day Date. So, just stay with me! I hope you all enjoy.

**Disclaimer: I don't own Beverly Hills, 90210 or any of its characters.**

The radio faintly echoed in the background as he buttoned a red flannel shirt over his white undershirt. "_Hello, I love you, won't you tell me your name? Hello, I love you, let me jump in your game_," Even Jim Morrison's absent, faraway voice was mocking him today. _"She holds her head so high like a statue in the sky. Her arms are wicked, and her legs are long. When she moves my brain screams out this song."_

It was a Sunday morning and Nat had insisted taking over his double shift at the Pit. "Just call me Cupid, kid. You'll thank me later," He had winked and laughed in that quintessentially good-natured way of his, nudging Brandon out of the restaurant before he could get a word in edgewise. It was one of the few days that he wished he could don his tired, old uniform and notepad. At least it would get his mind off of all the lovey dovey crap being thrown at him. Love, love, love. It was almost as though he couldn't escape it.

Brenda had been up since six, downing coffee and frantically going through her wardrobe, crying over how nothing in her wardrobe was appropriate for the night's festivities. His father, meanwhile, was frantic concerning his lack of forethought over a Valentine's Gift for their mother, and had been in and out of his room, asking for opinions, giving him errands to run, and asking him repeatedly why he seemed out of sorts.

"Brandon," He heard his name called faintly. Downstairs, the phone began to ring obnoxiously and the sound of a frying pan hitting the floor served to add fuel to his mother's vexation. "Brandon!" His mother called up the stairwell. "Brandon, get the phone!" He practically cringed at the sound of his own name.

"Alright, alright, I'm coming!" Brandon sighed, running down the stairs, picking up the phone on its fifth ring.

"Hello?" Brandon answered, his annoyance undoubtedly seeping through into his tone of voice.

"Brando!" Steve's cheerful voice echoed into the receiver. "Glad you answered. Did you catch 'Love at First Sight' last night? I left you a message to watch at 8—to see what you're missing, if you know what I mean."

"I'm sorry to say that I didn't get the chance," Brandon said sourly. "Let me guess? You won."

"Right you are, Bran. Her name is Celeste and she's a total babe," Steve was obviously beside himself with joy. "Long legs like you wouldn't believe. She's coming with me tonight."

"Is that it or is there more?" Brandon wandered to the counter, taking out a mug and pouring himself whatever coffee was left in the pot.

"Is there more? Is there_ more_? Of course there's more! Are you showing up stag tonight?" Steve was unfazed by Brandon's obvious annoyance.

"Unless Winona Ryder calls me up and states she's rapt with wild infatuation for me, then, yes, Steve," Brandon sipped at his coffee, wishing, for anything, he could get out of going tonight without feeling like a complete loser.

"Geez, Bran, no need to be hostile," Steve laughed, "I'll try to see if Celeste has any friends to bring along. You can thank me later. And if Winona calls, tell her that she can do so much better than that Depp poser. See you around 10. My place."

"Will do. See you, Steve," Brandon exhaled, hanging up the phone before Steve said anything else.

Heels frantically clicked down the staircase, and Brenda, wearing a sparkly black mini-dress and stilettos looked back and forth, from Cindy to Brandon. "Haven't you had that dress since we moved here, Bren?" Brandon asked, raising his eyebrows.

Brenda, looking down at the dress, turned on her heel and ran back up the stairs. Just as she did so, the phone rang again. Brandon, sighing, reached for the phone again. "Yeah?" He said into the phone, dejectedly.

"Brandon? It's Kelly," Her voice somehow shook him up. He took a gulp of hot coffee, which charred his tongue and left him both anxious and burnt. He choked on the hot liquid in his throat a bit, and then regained his composure.

"Hey, Kel," He found himself saying. "Looking for Brenda?"

"Well, yeah, I guess," Kelly said, blankly. "I actually wanted to talk to you too, though."

"What about?" Brandon asked, dumbfounded.

I'm planning on going to Steve's party tonight and Jackie doesn't feel comfortable with me driving for the time being." Kelly answered, a bit of nervousness in her voice, "So, I was wondering if maybe you could pick me up."

Brandon fought the urge to say "yes" automatically. The chances were she really was just looking for a ride. The possibility that she was looking for an excuse to spend time with him, regardless of how far-fetched that notion was, however, somehow excited him. _Damn it, Brenda_. He sighed, knowing that the power of suggestion was probably playing games with his mind. "Of course, Kel. What time were you thinking?"

"Maybe around nine-ish? You could come in and grab something to eat and we could go from there. The voice of experience is telling me that Steve is not the hors d'oeuvre type," Kelly giggled. Brandon smiled, for the first time in that entire day. Could it be that Brandon Walsh had some semblance of a date on Valentine's Day? He tried to push the notion out of his mind, but he had to say, he was curious as to what this all was really about.

"Sounds great. I'll be at your door around nine," Brandon smiled again—to hell with the notion of cautiousness, he thought, quite to himself. There was a warm moment of silence between them. They suddenly had a very clear, unspoken understanding.

"I'll see you then, Bran." He could hear her smiling on the other end. "Could you do me a quick favor and give Brenda the phone?"

"No problem—if I can possibly get through to her, that is," Brandon laughed, setting the phone down and running up to Brenda's room, rapping lightly on the door.

"Come in!" Brenda called out, her voice cheerful and peppy.

Brenda, dressed in a light pink dress with a flared skirt, smiled at him, as she sat at her vanity table, brushing her hair. "Is that the one?" Brandon grinned, pleased to see that his sister was settling down.

"It's the one," She smiled, examining the sweetheart neckline. "It's going to be perfect, tonight."

Brandon nodded, taking a seat at her window seat momentarily. "Kelly's on the phone for you."

"Kelly?" Brenda repeated, a mischievous glint in her eye.

"Yes, Kelly," Brandon repeated, cautiously. "I'm picking her up tonight. Before you get any bright ideas, though, we're going to the party as _just friends_. In fact, Steve is setting me up with some righteous babe tonight. One of his date's friends."

"We'll see how well that works out," Brenda leaned towards her brother, patting him on the shoulder.

She stood up, examining her reflection once again. "It will work out. In fact, I'm sure it will." Brandon wasn't sure why he was being so tight-lipped about his interest in Kelly. Perhaps it was because he was so nervous about it himself.

"Oh, I'm sure you are," Brenda raised her eyebrows, giggling as she ran down the stairs, towards the phone. Brandon, following her downstairs, waited by the kitchen door, standing in the arch.

"Hey, Kel. I hear Brandon's picking you up," Brenda said into the receiver, casually.

He listened in, insatiably curious as to what direction the conversation would go in. "Is he listening?" Brenda smiled to herself. "No," She threw Brandon a knowing smirk. "If it makes you feel more comfortable, I'll check to see where he is." Brenda paused for a moment, covering the receiver with her hand, counting to ten seconds while bracing her hand on her hip, and then putting the phone to her ear once again. "Kelly? Yeah, he's in his room."

Brandon took a seat on a stool situated along the counter, still listening intently.

A moment passed, and he could hear Kelly's faraway voice on the other end of the line. "Did he seem excited about it?" Brenda now faced him, raising her eyebrows. "I'm sure he's just as pent up about it as you are." Another pause. "How do I know that? It's just written all over his face." Brenda coyly bit her lip. "Yes, really."

A tiny electric jolt ran through Brandon's body. He wouldn't admit it to Brenda, but he suddenly felt more enthused than ever about tonight. "I would suggest something incredibly sexy. Maybe a red dress, and those black pumps?" Brandon bit his lip as Brenda grinned at his expression. "Call me back when you've decided. Catch you later, Kel." Brenda hung up the phone before laughing to herself, glancing at Brandon once again, who didn't look so amused.

"What would you do without me?" Brenda grinned and raised her eyebrows. She laughed once again, taking her heels off before she ran back up the stairs. "By the way, Romeo, I would suggest sunflowers. They're Kelly's favorites."

Brandon furrowed his eyebrows, actually taking his sister's advice seriously. "Sunflowers, sunflowers," he repeated to himself as he sprinted up the stairs, almost knocking into his father in the process, who watched him hustle up the stairs with an approving gaze.

* * *

><p>At about 9:05 Brandon's mustang pulled up the Taylor driveway, pulling to a concise and sharp stop as the circular pavement tilted downward. Looking directly ahead, Brandon could see the "For Sale" sign prominently displayed. Looking to his right, Brandon could see Jackie Taylor peering out the window, smiling, and then folding her arms, waiting for him to get out of the car.<p>

He turned the keys and removed them from the ignition, and, after pulling his parking break up, he exited the car, dusting his white shirt and black dress pants off. He pulled his black sports jacket on and pulled the sunflowers out of the back seat. It had been almost a no-go trying to get flowers on Valentine's Day. He had succeeded, though, but only by flirting for several minutes with the girl behind the counter. Brandon grinned to himself. On any other night, he might have made pass at her, but tonight his thoughts were consumed with another girl, one he had previously thought of as only a sister—an idea he was now challenging more and more.

Jackie Taylor had the door open before he had approached the porch. Brandon straightened his tie, throwing a friendly smile in her direction. "Looking sharp, Brandon," Jackie smiled as he passed through the threshold, flowers in hand. "I want to thank you for giving Kelly a ride tonight. I've obviously been a bit concerned about letting her out alone lately. I thought about Kelly going with Steve, but then I thought, 'who else better than a Walsh'? Kelly and I must be on the same wavelength. She told me she wanted you to take her before I could even get it out."

Brandon's smile became sheepish. "I'm glad you both were on the same page."

"Kelly should be down in just a minute. You can come into the kitchen and wait for her if you like," Jackie motioned for him to follow her. Brandon trailed her into the kitchen, setting the flowers down on the island. He took a seat, noticing the three trays of appetizers before him.

"What do you think?" Jackie raised an eyebrow.

"I had no idea that you guys were going all out," Brandon couldn't help but smile, taking one of the mini franks off the platter.

"Before you give us too much credit, I'll let you in on a little secret," Jackie smiled slyly, holding up an oven gourmet box. "We figured by doing it this way we couldn't burn down the house." Jackie chuckled good-naturedly. Behind him, he could hear Kelly's encroaching footsteps.

"Brandon," Kelly smiled as she entered the kitchen. She was dressed to the nines, in a tight black dress with red pumps. Her long blonde hair hung straight down her back. Brandon couldn't help but allow his stare to linger. "I see you've found your way to the food."

"It's like a sixth sense," Brandon smiled, holding another hors d'oeuvre frank in hand. "I call it food radar. Though, I digress. You look beautiful."

Kelly let out a pleased chirp. "And you look very handsome, Brandon," She hadn't stopped smiling. There was a comfortable silence between the two. "You know, most guys wouldn't be so bold as to wear a red tie. But you're not like them, are you?"

"I guess not," Brandon smiled again and looked down, as Kelly noticed the sunflowers.

"Wow, Brandon. Those are beautiful," She walked to the island, running her hand down a stem. "This is so thoughtful of you."

"I heard you liked sunflowers," Brandon uttered a bit shyly. "I hope my source was accurate."

"Very much so," Kelly warmly gripped his hand, pulling him into a hug. "Thanks, Bran."

"Thanks for being my Valentine's Day date," Brandon raised his eyebrows. Kelly eyed him, her hand still on his shoulder. "—lest we forget my Spring Dance date."

"At least this time we know Brenda and I won't be wearing the same dress," Kelly and Brandon laughed, as they turned toward the island, taking seats beside one another, "Or dating the same guy." Strangely, the last part didn't come off on a sour note.

"If only Dylan had a twin," Brandon shook his head, smiling a bit. "Then all of our problems would be solved."

"I think I could do without Dylan for the time being," Kelly took a bite of a hors d'oeuvre, "Or, you know, permanently."

"Glad to hear it, Kel. I don't think I could take more of this love triangle business," Brandon rolled his eyes.

"I think I'm up for more of a two point love affair," Kelly joked, looking again to her sunflowers.

"Allow me to heave a deep sigh of relief," Brandon's eyes flickered. "We really haven't had much time to talk lately, though, in all seriousness. I know that this whole thing with Dylan has been messed up, but I hope you're okay with me thinking it's better off this way."

"You mean, with Brenda and Dylan being together?" Kelly took a sip of the soda she had just opened. "I think so too."

"So, just to be clear, everything's over, right? No more pills, no more fighting over Dylan?"

Kelly paused. "I made a decision while I was lying in the hospital bed that I would leave Dylan and Brenda alone. I also decided that I would never be stupid enough to take diet pills again. You know me, Bran. You know who I really am—and that girl wasn't it."

Brandon laughed, though his expression seemed a bit wistful. "Funny. That's what Brenda and Donna said when you were on your rampage."

"They're great girls," Kelly looked down into her lap. "They're great friends."

"I'm glad you realize that, Kel," Brandon remained smiling, his expression becoming a tad bit lighter. After popping another appetizer in his mouth, he stood up. The kitchen clock read 9:30.

"I believe that your chariot awaits, my lady," Brandon threw her one of his winning grins, performing a sweeper motion with his hand towards the front door.

"Then we shall not hesitate," Kelly returned his grin, and hooked arms with him. After waving good-bye to Jackie, Brandon and Kelly took off to Chez Sanders.

* * *

><p>Brenda was standing in front of the mirror when her mother opened the door to her bedroom. She smiled as she saw Brenda fixing a strand of hair and watched her for a moment before making her presence known. "Your father went out to try to get us reservations at some swanky restaurant in town," Cindy sat on the edge of Brenda's bed, "So he shouldn't be here when Dylan picks you up."<p>

Brenda looked at her mother, and then looked down, leaning on the door frame. "I feel bad about lying to dad, but I don't know what else to do. I know you're in Dylan's court, but dad couldn't be more out of it if he tried."

Brenda bit her lip and glanced in the mirror.

"Where does he think I'm going every night?"

"I think he knows. I just don't think he wants to know." Cindy looked a little sad as she smoothed Brenda's sheets and rearranged Mr. Pony so that he was situated among the pillows.

Brenda took off her heels, going to the bed and sitting beside her mother. "If Dylan and I keep going at this rate, I'm going to have to tell him soon. I don't like lying to dad—I never have liked lying to him."

"I worry that he might take it out on Dylan and none of us want that to happen. I think we're just going to have to ride this one out, sweetie," Cindy smoothed her hair, giving her a loving, motherly glance before getting up and peering out the window. Dylan's headlights shining through the window signified that he was downstairs.

"Don't worry about it tonight, Brenda," Cindy gave her a sad little smile. "It's Valentine's Day, and you and Dylan should make it special."

"Thanks, mom," She hugged Cindy, "You're always on my side." Brenda put on her heels, and then glanced in the mirror.

"You look beautiful, Brenda. I think your father would agree," Cindy and Brenda exchanged a smile, before heading down the stairs and opening the door.

Dylan stood in front of the door holding a bouquet of yellow roses. Brenda, grinning ecstatically, reached out to touch the stems. "Oh, no you don't. These are for Cindy," Dylan raised his eyebrows in jest.

"I'm flattered, Dylan," Cindy grinned, "But I do have another Valentine in the wings."

"Too little, too late, huh?" Dylan bit his lip, glancing to Brenda, "I guess I'll take this one."

"Gee, thanks," Brenda placed one hand on her hip, her lined eyes glistening.

"The sarcasm hardly demeans your legendary beauty, my dear," Dylan kissed her on the lips, placing his hands on her hips. "I have come from far away to whisk you away to a place untouched by modern man. I see that it is true that your face has launched a thousand, uh—yachts. I guess that works."

"Dear me, I'm becoming faint," Brenda glanced to Cindy, placing the back of her hand and positioning it against her forehead.

"Stay awake, my lady, we must away!" Dylan handed a rose to Cindy, taking Brenda's hand.

"Now, wait—wait, you two," Cindy pulled out the ancient family camera. "You two look so cute, I can't resist." Brenda rolled her eyes, but Dylan leapt into position, holding Brenda in his arms and dipping her down and engaging her in a tango style kiss. The camera flashed.

"One more!" Cindy grinned. Dylan stood up straight and Brenda leant her head against his side.

"Now, let's get one of you two in the car!" Cindy followed them as they entered Dylan's Porsche.

"No photographs, please. Miss Walsh is _not_ in the mood," Dylan grinned, jokingly putting his hand in front of his face.

"They always manage to find us, don't they?" Brenda waved to her mother as they pulled out of the driveway, and into Hillcrest.

Cindy waved to them and watched as their car disappeared around the bend. She folded her arms, thinking about how pleased she was to finally see her daughter happy again. With the single yellow rose and a camera in her hand, she walked back inside, content with her and Brenda's little secret.


	24. St Valentine's Fire

Hey, guys (old readers and new). So, I'm done with summer semester of college, and have finally overcome my laziness and now, I can write. This chapter will focus primarily on the Valentine's Day Party at Steve's house, but don't worry, the B/D action is plenty. I have a definite plan for where I'm taking this. As always, thank-you for reading and sharing my obsession!

**Disclaimer: I do not own Beverly Hills, 90210 or any of the characters therein.**

As Dylan's car idled on a remote road in the hills, Brenda sat in the passenger seat curiously examining her surroundings and wondering what Dylan could possibly have in mind all the way out here. She couldn't remember the last time she had been in the hills of Los Angeles—perhaps she had been on a drive or merely sightseeing.

She hadn't remembered the beauty of the place. The stars over the city of Los Angeles were brighter than she was accustomed to. The smog and the city lights seemed to be separate entities from the environment she was currently in.

Dylan parked his Porsche along the desolate road, and searching in his jacket pocket, removed a red blind fold. "I know what you're thinking," Dylan raised his eyebrows, as Brenda bit her lip, about to say something concerning her distaste for surprises, "Where are the red fuzzy handcuffs?" Brenda elbowed Dylan in the ribs. Dylan began to laugh, holding the blindfold across her eyes.

"I feel like we're in an episode of a cheesy crime drama," Brenda folded her arms, as Dylan placed the blindfold around her eyes.

"Bren, if I wanted to murder you I would have subjected you to the punch at my father's Valentine's Day party or, at the bare minimum, Christine's cooking. " Dylan raised his eyebrows, and feigned a shudder. "And trust me, I've tried her meatloaf sandwich. That thing is as good as arsenic."

"Ha Ha, Dylan, I think you've proven your point," Brenda's arms were still folded as Dylan tied a sturdy knot to hold the blindfold in place. The material of the blindfold was silky against her skin. She pouted a bit, as she heard Dylan's car door slam and her car door open several seconds later. He guided her to her feet, wrapping one arm around her waist.

"Out of curiosity, do you have an idea what's going on here?" Dylan's voice interrupted her own guesses as to what this night was all about.

"Short of a sexual escapade or murder, I'm drawing a blank," Brenda uttered dryly, shrugging her shoulders.

"Well, the sexual escapade might be in the cards," Dylan said in that sultry way of his, running a lone finger down her spine. "However, that is only half of what the night has in store for us."

"Are we bungee jumping off the Hollywood Sign?" Brenda smirked.

"You're getting warmer," Dylan stroked her back.

"Are we donating blood under the Hollywood Sign?" Brenda continued to smirk, this time breaking into a grin.

"That is so 1992, Bren," Dylan paused, and reaching for the blindfold, set Brenda free. In the middle of a flat piece of land overlooking the Hollywood Sign and the lights of Los Angeles, a table clothed in a black drape was situated, with a dim candle in its center and a white rose with a tiny turquoise envelope beside it.

White Christmas lights hung on the palm trees beside the table. Chinese lamps fashioned in the shape of hearts were also scattered amidst the lights. The final touch, a mock Eiffel Tower, was situated just a few feet away. Dylan set a boombox on the ground that he had been carrying all along. A French melody she was familiar began to fill the air.

"_Je t'aime," _The raspy voice of a woman sounded first. "_Oui, je t'aime." _Brenda listened, her cheeks becoming very pink.

A car pulled alongside of Dylan's, and a figure neared them. It soon manifested itself to be Nat, holding two trays of food, which he set on the table before them. Dylan grinned, pulling Brenda by the hand over to the table, and pulling her chair out for her. "Bon soir et bon apetit, mes amis," Nat said in a charmingly Americanized way. Saluting Brenda and patting Dylan on the shoulder, Nat walked off.

"Thanks for the favor, Nat, my man," Nat smiled at Dylan, waving to the twosome, before he started his car and disappeared back towards civilization.

"So, welcome to Los Angeles' own _Paris_," Dylan grinned, "We have our music, our sights, our food." Dylan reached over to pull the top of the tray off and reveal the food to Brenda. "Hamburgers avec des frites," Brenda giggled, staring around her environment in utter disbelief.

"Le repas, c'est très française," Brenda couldn't help but smile.

"Seulement le meilleur pour vous, Mademoiselle Brenda," Dylan returned, wryly.

"_Je vais, je vais, et je viens entre tes reins." _The song's melody went on. Brenda took a fry and thoughtful gnawed at it. "_Et je me retiens_."

Brenda grinned. "I never imagined Paris could be so close to home. This is really beautiful, Dylan."

"I wanted to do something special for you, Bren," Dylan watched as Brenda gnawed on a steak fry. "I wanted to make you feel special for a change. I want you to be the center of attention."

"It seems like everything has been so crazy lately," Brenda said. "We haven't had time to really enjoy being us again."

"I know," Dylan reached below the table to grab her hand. "Now has to be the time, Bren."

"Dylan?" Brenda looked at him, pensively. After a brief pause, she continued. "I love you."

"I love you too, Bren," Dylan stroked Brenda's hand, and they both became lost in the beauty of the L.A. skyline. He thought back to the evening when he sat in his Porsche with Brenda, after Emily Valentine's performance at Hello Day.

_"I wanted to tell you that I missed you, that I needed you. What we've got is more than just physical." Her voice was quaking with emotion._

_ "Bren, I'm not here because of that. I never was." Dylan wanted to touch her so badly, but he hesitated. "I'm here because I love you."_

When Dylan looked back up to Brenda, he noticed that she had already bit into her burger. He examined her fully, noticing that her blue eyes were sparkling in a way they hadn't in a while. He smiled once again, his hand stroking Brenda's knee.

He picked up the turquoise envelope. "I was going to wait until after dinner, but I think now's the perfect time."

Brenda put down her burger, wiping her hands on the napkin situated on her lap. She opened the envelope, feeling a small, cool object fall into her hands. It was a silver band, with four small diamonds on the front. Engraved in the middle was the short message: "With love, from Dylan."

"Dylan, this is way too much," Brenda tried on the ring, a smile falling fast upon her lips. "But, I mean, I guess I have to keep it, right?" Brenda winked.

"If you don't, I'll tell Iris that I've been getting bad vibes from you and want her to do an intense palm reading and spiritual healing," Dylan cocked one eyebrow.

"You win," Brenda grinned, gleefully, leaving her seat and pulling Dylan out of his chair. "So, I've already figured out how to repay you for the ring. I owe you a minimum of five dances."

"The price sounds right," Dylan pecked her on the lips, and slid his hands down to her hips. Brenda wrapped her arms around his neck, and the two swayed to the gentle, easy sound of Serge Gainsbourg.

* * *

><p>Steve's driveway was packed by the time Kelly and Brandon arrived. After making himself a parking spot along the road, the two approached the door. They could hear the music playing before they were even halfway up the driveway. The house, from what they could see, was entirely filled.<p>

"Steve never fails to deliver," Brandon said, incredulously. "There must be 300 people here."

"When it comes to partying, Steve is the King," Kelly returned Brandon's smile. "I don't really remember freshman year really well. But there was this one time. Samantha went away for a week on a press tour to promote a new show she was set to star in, and Steve came up with this idea to have this huge masquerade party in his house. You know, costumes, masks, plenty of kegs, vodka, the works. Every freshman at West Beverly showed up and then, word got out to the upperclassman. I wouldn't be surprised if half of the school came. Steve just kept packing everybody in. Can you imagine? Drunk high school kids in masks packed into Steve's house like sardines, knocking over all of Samantha's furniture, practically ruining her white couch. I'm pretty sure Steve is still under house arrest for that stunt."

"God. Cindy and Jim would kill us if we tried that," Brandon winced, as if the thought of the punishment for throwing another out of control party physically pained him.

"It was bad enough when you guys threw that party sophomore year," Kelly said. "Samantha Sanders is one temperate woman. If Steve were my son, I would have pushed him off a balcony by now."

"I don't know if I could make it eighteen years raising that kid," Brandon said, prompting Kelly to laugh, as they approached Steve's front door.

Steve, always one to fulfill his host identity, answered the door, in full Hugh Hefner garb. Donning a red housecoat, leopard slippers, and holding a pipe with one hand, Steve looked every bit the part of a playboy.

"Hello, lady and gentleman," Steve grinned from ear to ear, putting the pipe up to his mouth. "Who might this pretty young thing be? Did I already say I'm going through a blonde period?" Steve raised his eyebrows.

Kelly pushed him away playfully. "Come on, Steve, can't you see I've brought a date?" Kelly turned to Brandon, planting a kiss on his cheek. "Brandon, Hef. Hef, Brandon."

"Ah, Brando," Steve patted him on the shoulder, "Come in, come in, you two. Food's in the kitchen, keg's in the living room, there's an open bar, and the grotto is completely open, if you know what I mean."

At that moment, a thin, pretty girl with curly light brown hair walked out of the kitchen and into the living room. Wearing a tight leopard print dress, black wedges, black eyeliner, and red lipstick, she looked completely divine. "There's my new lady," Steve pulled her by the waist, kissing her. "Guys, this is Celeste."

Celeste grinned, "You smell like you fell into a keg."

"That's actually the cologne he wears," Brandon cocked an eyebrow, grinning, Celeste throwing him a smile. "Eau de Jock."

Celeste smiled. "You must be Brandon. And you're Kelly, right?" She turned to both of them, and they nodded.

"Some of Steve's numerous fans," Kelly smiled, recognizing that Steve was completely smitten.

"I wasn't aware that this man could have fans," Celeste raised her eyebrows.

"Believe me, it surprises me too." Steve wrapped his arms around Celeste's waist.

"So, Brandon, I brought a friend that's visiting from out of town tonight. Steve told me that you could talk to her and maybe show her around the city tomorrow or something," Celeste smiled, looking to the connecting room, and then turning back to Brandon.

Kelly looked down. Brandon saw her gaze shift, and wished he had just insisted that Steve not try to hook him up.

"Really? That's great. How long is she in L.A.?" Brandon asked, politely.

"She's staying for a week. She has a break from school." Celeste began to raise her voice as the music became louder.

"Well, maybe I'll bump into her sometime tonight," Brandon said, putting an arm around Kelly's shoulder.

"Cool, I'll let her know," Celeste smiled at Brandon before being pulled by Steve to the dancefloor. Brandon looked towards Kelly, and saw that her look had changed.

"She must be a real babe," Kelly said, trying to sound convincing. "You probably shouldn't keep her waiting. I won't be offended."

"Kel, you're my date. I plan to have a lot of fun and you're definitely going to be involved," Brandon slid his hand down her arm. "And, to tell you the truth, I'm not so psyched to go hang out with some random girl. I came here with you because I wanted to come with you. I wouldn't have accepted your invitation if I didn't want to."

Kelly smiled, feeling so transparent.

"C'mon, let's grab some food." Brandon

The two wandered into the kitchen, trying to escape from the music.

"It seems all of our major food groups are represented. Pizza, pizza, and a half-eaten calzone," Brandon said. A number of jocks had gathered in the adjacent dining room, throwing around a notepad.

Brandon was confused by this spectacle until he saw the petite figure of Andrea standing impatiently at a counter nearby.

"Chief," Brandon grinned, coming up to pat her on the back. "What's happening?"

"Athletes," Andrea scoffed. "They're always completely determined to assert their dominance over the lower rungs of the high school social hierarchy in any way they can."

"Translation?" Kelly entered the conversation, watching the notepad crash into a puddle of beer.

"The jocks stole her notepad," Brandon turned to Kelly, smiling knowingly.

"Were you really trying to interview highly intoxicated jocks at a party, Chief?" Brandon put a friendly arm around his friend.

"Let me take care of this," Kelly walked into the other room, with her hands on her hips.

While the notebook hung in midair, Kelly snatched it. The jocks, realizing that Andrea was with Kelly, quickly made an exit to a close-by keg.

"I'm giving your notebook back to you on one condition. Promise me you'll enjoy the party and not focus on The Blaze." Kelly raised one eyebrow.

"I guess I could loosen up a bit," Andrea adjusted her glasses. "I just wanted to write this piece and—."

"Lighten up, Chief. Let's make our entrance into the living room and find Donna or something." Brandon put his arms around Andrea and Kelly's shoulders to push them forward.

"And you can find whatshername," Kelly said coyly.

"I wouldn't count on it," Brandon said, somewhat unenthused.

The main room was positively packed. Brandon spotted Celeste and Steve dancing in an intimate corner, and Donna chatting to a girl that looked vaguely familiar.

Andrea broke away from Brandon's grasp, and headed over to Donna, telling Brandon she would catch up with him a little later. Kelly stayed behind, folding her arms, and glancing in Brandon's direction coyly.

"I suppose asking you to dance would be a pointless question," Kelly smirked, knowingly.

"Maybe you can convince me a little later, Kel," Brandon returned her smile. "But for now, I'm going to have to stick to boring Brandon's guns and say no."

"I got you to dance once before, Bran," Kelly grinned, reaching for his hand and pulling it off her shoulder slowly. "I'm not going to give up on you just yet."

"I haven't forgotten your powers of persuasion. We'll see if they still do the charm," Brandon watched Kelly's eyes sparkle and her lips curl slightly before she turned away, to meet up with Andrea and Donna.

Was he actually flirting with Kelly? And did flirting with Kelly actually seem eerily natural? Had the tiny, suppressed crush that Brandon had always had on her developed into something that wasn't merely confined to the backburner? Only one thing was certain: he was certainly confused.

Brandon suddenly found himself standing alone. Standing in the middle of a group of dancing kids made him nervous, not to mention claustrophobic. Noticing that the conversation between Andrea, Donna, and Kelly had shifted from the standard pleasantries to a giggly gossip fest, Brandon bowed out, venturing out into a secluded spot near the pool. Though a few stragglers had already made their way into the pool, Brandon was pretty certain that the real pool dash wouldn't begin for a while. He felt comfortable just being alone with his thoughts for a minute.

After several minutes of sorting through his conflicting thoughts, he saw a woman, dangling pale legs clothed with knee-length black boots, leather jacket covered with shoulder-length brown hair, hidden away on another pool chair, facing the opposite direction. An eerily similar silhouette flickered, due to the presence of a fading gas lamp. Brandon looked down, trying to shake the feeling that this girl was anything less than a fellow reclusive party goer.

Once he had finally determined himself to simply return to the party, he noticed the girl had turned around. She stood at her full height, adjusting her chestnut locks. They locked eyes, and all of Brandon's worries had suddenly come to fruition. Deep, pained brown eyes gazed in his direction. Nothing had changed about the face that stared back at him, except her far less choppy, far less blonde haircut.

Brandon felt immobilized. All he could think of was trying to get away, but he simply couldn't. As they came face to face, Brandon rising from his seated position, he felt bad memories return all at once—a mixed drink gone awry, the hundred phone call hang-ups, the tubs of gasoline.

"Hey, Brandon," Said a familiar voice. "It's been awhile."

**What do you guys think? Let me know! Up next: Iris will be making her appearance in either next chapter or the one after that, Brandon and Kelly will be a definite focal point, Dylan and Jack's relationship will also come into play, and senior year is anything but over. Stay tuned. And review! Your reviews make me want to write (wink, wink). **


	25. Reunion

After a long, long separation from this story, I am picking it up again. If any of you are out there still, thanks for reading. Chime in if you can and let me know what you think. Thanks, everyone!

**Disclaimer: I do not own Beverly Hills, 90210 or any of its characters.**

Brandon stared at the girl for a moment, trying to find something to say that was remotely appropriate. He had put her so far out of his mind that he almost forgot that she was a matter of hours away. Emily Valentine—different hair color, but the same in so many ways.

Could he get away with a quick hello? Was it acceptable to not say anything at all? It wasn't like he owed her anything, but they hadn't left it on bad terms.

"Hi," Brandon said, dryly, hardly able to get the word out of his mouth.

"Hi," Emily repeated, brown eyes bashful. Her smile was unassuming and made Brandon forget why he was nervous in the first place.

"I didn't expect to see you here," Brandon smiled slightly, realizing that he was almost glad to see her.

"I wish I could say the same. When Celeste said she met a Steve from L.A. on some random dating show I had a creeping suspicion it might be him," Emily said, taking a seat on a chair adjacent from Brandon. "When we pulled up to the house tonight, I was sure. I really feel bad about showing up like this."

"There are a lot of Steves in L.A.," Brandon said. "It's not like we're trying to avoid each other anyway."

"Yeah, but, just the same, I didn't know if it would be weird," Emily said, playing with a delicate gold chain that hung around her neck. "I don't want to make you uncomfortable."

"It might be a little weird to see you again, but it's also really good to see you, Em," Brandon smiled genuinely. "I'm also glad I'm not the only one that wants to avoid the dance floor."

"Yeah, the jock scene here is pretty impressive," Emily said, pointing to the large number of tall, imposing football players who had gathered around a keg in the living room. "I wouldn't expect anything else at Steve's parties."

There was a comfortable moment of silence between Emily and Brandon. He shyly looked up after a moment of thinking. "How have you been?"

Emily met his gaze, almost surprised. "I've been good, Bran. I'm still in San Francisco, living with my parents. I'm applying to a few colleges and even helping my dad start an underground student newspaper."

"You? Starting a newspaper? You wouldn't touch The Blaze with a ten foot poll," Brandon mused, raising his eyebrows.

"I'm not writing for it or anything," Emily smiled, revealing the dimple in her left cheek.

"I say the same thing every time at the beginning of every semester," Brandon laughed. "Every semester I end up going back to The Blaze."

"Yeah, but Andrea's there to coerce you into it," Emily joked, pausing for a quick moment. "By the way, how's your sister?"

"Bren is good. Great, actually. She got back together with Dylan after what seemed like decades of the Brenda-Dylan-Kelly love triangle of the ages," Brandon grinned, shaking his head.

"Kelly? Jeez, and I thought I had it bad with Brenda," Emily said. "I'm glad she's happy."

"Me too. After all these years of Dylan drama, I think I'm actually starting to accept that this relationship never going away," Brandon said. "No matter how crazy they are, they're actually good for each other."

"Maybe so," Emily said, glancing softly at Brandon.

"Listen, Em, I have to get back to the party," Brandon said, knowing he should leave it at that. "You should call me sometime. Beverly Hills isn't that far away from San Francisco, you know."

Emily nodded as Brandon walked away.

"Hey, Bran," she said, as he opened the sliding glass door. "Say hi to Brenda for me, will you?"

"Sure," Brandon paused for a moment at the door looking back. He entered the living room as a surge of partygoers rushed past him towards the pool. He watched as one particularly intoxicated athlete stumbled into the pool in full dress.

"Can someone check that he's breathing?" Brandon said, only half in jest.

Kelly and Donna came up to Brandon almost immediately, Donna with a drink in hand. He felt calmed at the sight of Kelly's ginger ale.

"Hey Bran. We thought we lost you," Donna said, taking a sip of her drink. "Where did you run off to?"

"I just needed to get some air," Brandon assured them, not quite sure whether to mention the surprise meeting with Emily or not.

"Yeah, it is kind of hot in here," Kelly said, looking at Brandon intently.

Brandon looked around the room, trying to spot Steve or Andrea. The room was still packed tight, but many had headed out to the pool area. Only a few people surrounded the massive keg now.

"While you were gone, Steve convinced Celeste to take him and three of his closest friends on a beer run." Kelly said. "I guess the keg just won't do it."

"Poor Celeste," Donna put a hand on her hip. "She doesn't know life with Steve is an endless beer run."

"What happened to Andrea?" Brandon asked. He hadn't been able to spot her anywhere.

"I guess she was meeting up with someone tonight," Donna said. "She said she met some guy and they were supposed to catch a late movie."

"Good for chief. I don't think she's been out on a date since—ever," Brandon smiled. It made Brandon feel a little sad that the closest thing Andrea had ever had to a boyfriend was Brandon.

Kelly giggled. "Good for her. She deserves to meet someone nice. So, Bran, what do you think?"

Brandon examined Kelly's face, flushed and eager. He forgot about Emily for a long moment. "Of the party, you mean? It seems like another one of Steve's classics. I just don't know if it's quite my speed."

"I know what you mean," Kelly said, glancing at Donna, whose face had become slightly sour. "What do you say we take a walk?"

Brandon's eyes locked with Kelly's. "Is it okay if we leave you alone for a few minutes, Don?"

Donna, face still somber, glanced towards Brandon and Kelly. "Yeah, that's fine. I have to make a phone call anyway."

"We'll be right back," Kelly placed a hand on Donna's shoulder and then walked with Brandon out the door. The pool was nearly occupied, but Steve's extensive backyard was vacant. Kelly walked slightly in front of Brandon, looking back to him after a minute with a thoughtful expression.

"It's nice out here," Kelly's gaze lingered for a moment. "Once the buzzing in my ears stops it will be practically perfect."

"It's a beautiful night," Brandon looked towards the sky. The vast patches of stars were sparkling, as clouds drifted by them slowly. The air was pleasantly crisp. "It's been awhile since I just stargazed. Usually the view from L.A. is lackluster."

"Yeah, tell me about it," Kelly said. "I'd love to see what the sky looks like from Minneapolis."

"Pretty brilliant," Brandon said, taking a seat on the soft, dry grass. Kelly sat next to him, her hand brushing his. "I remember that some nights Brenda and I would climb on our roof to try to identify constellations, parkas and all."

"Wow, you and Bren must have been pretty boring kids," Kelly joked, hugging her legs to her chest.

Brandon laughed too, trying to picture Brenda's terrified face as Brandon slightly shook the ladder they had perched on the roof. "What else are you going to do when it snows seven months of the year?"

"I guess you have a point," Kelly's face was jovial, a slight smile etched upon her face. "It must have been fun growing up with Cindy and Jim, at least."

"Yeah, most of the time. Jim can be a real pain in the ass sometimes, but he loves us. That has to count for something," Brandon glanced towards Kelly, who seemed to grow more serious.

"You're so lucky to have parents with a normal relationship. I swear, if Jackie could just stay away from men, half of her problem would be gone," Kelly said, playing with a patch of grass. "Maybe that goes for me too."

Brandon took a deep breath. "Kel, you have dated a lot of jerks in the past. Don't get me wrong, but Steve, Jake, Dylan—they definitely have their weaknesses. Steve has no sense of responsibility. Jake enables you. Don't even get me started on Dylan. Dylan has deep-seated emotional problems and can't decide what he wants most of the time."

"I guess I just don't understand. I seem to bring out the worst in people. Dylan is a different guy around me," Kelly said. "With Brenda, he's loving, funny, understanding. With me, all he wants to do blow off some steam with me or blow me off."

"Have you ever thought that maybe Dylan and you bring out the worst in each other?" Brandon couldn't believe he was actually counseling Kelly.

"I think you're right," Kelly said. "What is it with you Walshes that brings out the best in people?"

"I don't know, but it must have something to do with our charm and good looks," Brandon said in jest.

"I don't know about that," Kelly said, leaning back on her hand while giving Brandon a sideways glance. Brandon gave her a dirty look.

"Hey Bran? Thanks for everything tonight. I really appreciate it," Kelly said, sharing a warm look with Brandon.

"Don't mention it," Brandon said as he rose to his feet. He reached down to pull Kelly up, accidentally pulling her into his face.

"Ow," Kelly grinned, putting her hand on her nose. "Don't tell me that was your move."

Brandon looked down and then, after a moment, put his arm around Kelly's waist. "No," He paused, Kelly's eyes wide with wonder. "This is." He was already leaning in when they heard a voice that separated them immediately.

"Kelly, Brandon," Brenda's voice called out from the pool. "We've been looking all over for you."

Brandon slowly pulled away, unfulfilled. "I thought you weren't going to make it."

"We thought we should at least make a cameo," Brenda raised her eyebrows. Dylan, who was standing next to her, had his arm around her waist. Brandon looked towards Kelly and began to make his way over to them with Kelly shortly behind him.

"How's it going, man?" Dylan and Brandon engaged in a typical informal handshake. "Looks like the party is already fading." Dylan glanced around towards the few that had passed out around the pool.

"I think you have the keg to blame for that," Brandon said, pointing towards the living room. "How was your evening?" He glanced towards Brenda as her cheeks reddened.

"It was quiet, just the way I like it," Dylan kissed Brenda on the lips. "We were just about to head back to my place, but Bren insisted we stop by."

"I had to see what all the hype was about," Brenda glanced to Kelly, who was now by Brandon's side. "I love the dress, Kel."

"Thanks, Bren. Your dress is killer. I wonder who helped you pick it out," Kelly grinned slyly.

"I did, of course," Brandon said. "I accompany Brenda on all her shopping trips, naturally." Kelly smirked at Brandon.

"That would explain all the flannel shirts," Dylan looked towards Brenda with a dangerous glint in his eye.

Brenda looked over towards the pool, where a lone jock was slumped over the edge of the pool. "Uh, is he okay?"

"Let's hope so," Brandon said, going over to feel his pulse. The reassuring thump, fortunately, sounded on the other end. "He's alive—just suffering from major liver damage."

"Steve's parties will do that to you, I guess," Dylan remarked dryly. "Your ready to hit the road, Bren?"

"Dylan, we've been here for five minutes," Brenda replied, throwing Dylan a long look.

"Five minutes we could be using to speed towards my place," Dylan said smoothly. "I rented Sunset Boulevard and I bought ice cream. C'mon, you can't say you aren't excited."

"In that case, count me in," Brandon said throwing an arm around Dylan's neck. "Tell me that you bought rocky road."

"I was thinking more of a two person ice cream party," Dylan said, giving Brandon a comical glance.

"In that case, we'll just get our own ice cream," Brandon turned towards Kelly as all four began to walk towards their cars. "Sound good?"

"As long as you have lots of it to spare," Kelly smiled, as they approached Brandon's car. He opened the door for her, motioning for her to climb inside.

As Kelly and Brandon sped away, Brenda and Dylan lingered. "Is something going on with Kelly and B?" Dylan asked.

Brenda shook her head with a thin smile. "Not that I know of."

"Are you up to something?" Dylan asked, raising his eyebrows.

"When have you ever known me to be up to something?" Brenda couldn't hide her grin as she hopped into Dylan's car.

"Is that a yes or a no?" Dylan asked, point blank.

"It's a maybe," Brenda grabbed his chin and leaned over to kiss him. Dylan kissed her back, pulling away finally and giving her a knowing gaze.

"If you say so," Dylan started the engine and took off in the opposite direction.


	26. Someday

Hi again. This chapter is really getting into the meat of the storylines (B/D reunion, B/K possible romance, Jim/Dylan conflict), so I hope you enjoy. The next chapter will focus on Iris' arrival.

**Disclaimer: I do not own Beverly Hills, 90210 or any of its characters.**

The silence in the car had been tangible. Brandon wasn't quite sure what to say. He couldn't bring himself to glance in Kelly's direction. Usually Brandon was smoother than this. He hoped that he was looking calmer than he felt.

He hadn't planned on kissing her. In fact, before that evening, he had wanted a platonic relationship. Kelly was in a fragile state. Then there was the fact that relationships within their friend group had always caused waves. He couldn't let his guard down and drag everyone into another mess, especially while Kelly was recovering and on the rebound from Dylan and Jake.

Yet—the kiss would have felt natural, he knew. He had been thinking about it for a while. Kelly wasn't the craziest person for him to date. After all, everyone always expected them to get together despite all odds. Why did it always seem like the group was expecting a Kelly and Brandon union?

Maybe it _was _inevitable, Brandon thought. Maybe everyone else is just seeing what Kelly and I are choosing to ignore. Then there was his encounter with Emily and the feelings that were hidden away over a year ago. Who would have thought that Emily Valentine would be coming back now, at this juncture?

"Brandon, don't we turn here?" Kelly interjected, her voice putting an end to an endless trail of thought.

"Yeah, sorry. I don't know where my head is." Brandon said, feigning a smile. He couldn't really smile at this moment. Something prevented him from being at ease.

"It's fine. Listen, I hope that you don't feel weird about tonight," Kelly raised her eyebrows. Brandon felt somewhat relieved.

"There's nothing to feel weird about, I guess," Brandon said, as he turned onto Hillcrest.

"As far as I'm concerned, that is the least weird thing that has happened this week," Kelly grinned. Brandon relaxed as he pulled into his driveway. "So, I'm definitely taking you up on the ice cream."

"Good, because I could use some about now," Brandon said, pulling open her car door and taking her hand. There was a moment where they just looked at each other in anticipation. Brandon helped her up and they moved towards the front door.

Cindy was sitting at the kitchen table, doing what looked to be a crossword puzzle when they came in. She smiled at Brandon and seemed surprised to see Kelly. She rose from her seat immediately.

"Kelly," Cindy said, smiling in that genuine way of hers. "It's so good to see you." She walked over to Kelly and gave her a hug.

"It's really good to see you too," Kelly grinned, lingering a moment in the embrace. "I've missed it here."

"You know you're always welcome," Cindy said, moving towards the freezer. She pulled out two cartons of ice cream. "Now sit down. I'm dishing it out, whether you like it or not."

"Mint chocolate chip please," Kelly chirped. "And some whipped cream if you have it."

"What will it be for you, Brandon?" Cindy asked, knowing the answer before she asked the question.

"Rocky road, like every time for the past eighteen years of my life," Brandon quipped, smiling good-naturedly.

"I figured as much," Cindy said, as she scooped out Kelly's dish. She squirted whipped cream on Kelly's ice cream and slid the bowl towards her.

Kelly took an eager bite. "I think it's been a full three months since I've ice cream."

"Jeez, how do you even survive?" Brandon asked in disbelief.

"Mostly with chocolate," Kelly smiled.

"How can chocolate even compare to the goodness that is ice cream?" Brandon said dramatically.

Kelly shook her head, still smiling. "Excuse me, have you ever tried chocolate? Have you ever had a truffle?"

"Manly men don't eat _truffles_," Brandon joked.

"Then you should have no problem," Kelly took a bite of her ice cream and mischievously looked to Brandon.

"Hey, watch his ego. It's fragile," Cindy was scooping out another serving of mint chocolate chip for herself.

"That's how you defend me? You say my ego is fragile?" Brandon's bright blue eyes were wide in mock disbelief.

"Well, it's true," Kelly beamed.

Brandon was about to respond when the trudging sound of footprints on the stairs signaled his father's arrival. Jim, in his burgundy bath robe, rubbed his eyebrows, seemingly half asleep.

"You're home late," He said to Brandon as he glanced at the clock. The large green numbers read 1:15.

"We were at Steve's party," Kelly said, the smile disappearing from her face. Jim had instantly wrecked the good mood of everyone involved. He didn't have to say anything to do it either. It was the unasked question that filled everyone with anticipation.

"Was your sister there too?" Jim asked somberly.

"Yep, Bren was there," Brandon answered, trying to sound upbeat and failing miserably.

"Don't tell me she's sleeping," Jim said, leaning against the kitchen counter. Everyone knew what was coming next.

"No. She'll be back in a little while," Cindy chimed in, still working on her ice cream. "She approved her plans with me."

"Oh. Do those plans have something to do with one Dylan McKay?" Jim asked.

The silence in the air was saturated with dread.

"Please Jim. Don't do this tonight," Cindy said, somewhat defeated.

"Why do you insist on protecting him every time, Cindy? I have tried to reason with Brenda. I have tried to let the situation be. I have tried to reason with Dylan. Nothing seems to work," Jim's face became angry and his eyes narrowed.

"Dad, I hate to jump in here, but doesn't Brenda's happiness mean anything to you? She's happy with Dylan. Mom knows that, I know that." Brandon said, already regretting that he said anything at all.

"Brandon, I respect that Dylan is your friend, but he's not a good influence on Brenda. I am just trying to protect Brenda here. It seems like Dylan is bent on hurting her at every turn," Jim folded his arms.

"Dylan really loves Brenda," Kelly said weakly. "I should know. I dated him."

"With all due respect, Kelly, you, more than anyone, should know the capability that Dylan has for hurting other people," Jim replied curtly, looking down.

"It's true that Dylan has made some mistakes and, at times, he can be a real bastard. He does love Brenda, though. He cares about Brenda," Kelly said. The truth did hurt, but she felt that, in some tiny way, she might be giving something back to Brenda.

Jim stayed silent. Brandon, seizing the opportunity, stepped forward.

"Dad, even if you were able to separate them, Brenda is not going to just forget about him," Brandon said. "She already considers you an obstacle."

"You know, Brandon, I've had it up to here with everyone's attitude concerning Dylan. I'm looking out for my daughter's best interests and, in return, all I get is resistance from every single one of you," Jim interjected, raising his voice. "Do you think Dylan is going to start being the model boyfriend for your sister? Do you think he's going to get on the straight-and-narrow now? Please."

"Jim, this is not the time," Cindy had become tense and irate.

"As soon as Brenda comes back, I'm letting her know that she's not to go out at all for the next two weeks. Hopefully that will give her some time to think about what's important here," Jim's voice was icy. Cindy glared at him as he climbed back up the stairs.

No one spoke for a minute. Kelly looked down at the counter and to her melting ice cream. Brandon took another bite for stamina. Cindy propped her head on her arm and sighed.

"Excuse me," Cindy said, breaking the silence. She rushed up the stairs, visibly angry. Brandon, seeing that nothing good could come from this, stood up, motioning for Kelly to follow him.

"_Jim, was that really necessary?" _Cindy's voice reached the foyer.

"Let's take you home," Brandon said, his voice quiet. They exited the door before they had the chance to hear Jim respond.

* * *

><p>In the darkness, the brightness of the television screen and the face of Gloria Swanson drew the wandering eye in. Dylan and Brenda were, however, lying on the couch, only half-paying attention what was on the screen.<p>

Brenda was lying on top of Dylan, her lips locked on his. One of Dylan's arms was wrapped around her waist and the other was firmly positioned on her ass.

"We should stop," Brenda said, looking towards the screen.

"We _should_," Dylan said, caressing her cheek. He kissed her passionately. She returned the kiss, placing her hands on his hips.

"I like that dress, but I'd like it better off you," Dylan said, in that hoarse, sexy way of his.

"C'mon, Dylan, you know I have to be back soon," Brenda moaned.

"You and I both know that this is going to happen sooner or later," Dylan tightened his grip on her. "Preferably sooner."

Brenda pulled away, gazing into his eyes. She rose from her position, throwing her heels to the side. She watched the screen absently.

"Something on your mind?" Dylan asked, pulling himself into a seated position.

Brenda paused. "You know how Kelly was with Brandon at Steve's party tonight?"

"Yeah, I recall," Dylan watched her as she fidgeted with her bracelet.

"I'm kind of, sort of trying to put them together," Brenda said, glancing nervously towards Dylan.

"Brandon and Kelly?" Dylan repeated. "I guess I never thought of them as a potential item before. They always seemed to have a brother-sister thing going on, from what I can tell."

Brenda bit her lip. "It's just that Kelly has always liked Brandon and Brandon has always had a thing for Kelly. I thought that now would be as good a time as any."

"Bren, I have a feeling that this wasn't just about your aspirations to start your own matchmaking service," Dylan said, looking towards her expectantly.

"Maybe not. This may sound kind of silly. Maybe I feel like Kelly would be less of a threat if she was with someone else—especially someone as secure as Brandon," Brenda couldn't believe she was being so blunt with Dylan.

Dylan looked down, before meeting Brenda's eyes once again. His sultry, thoughtful stare could always rile her up. "Brenda, it's great if you want to set up Kelly and Brandon. I just want to be clear that I'm not going back to Kelly. I'm with you, Brenda. I meant it when I said I choose you."

Brenda sighed, getting up and pacing around the room. "It's hard for me to trust again. I love you, Dylan. I just want to make sure that the same thing doesn't happen again."

"It's not going to," Dylan stood up, meeting her in the center of the room. "I understand it's going to take a while for you to trust me again. I'm going to show you that you can, though."

Brenda looked into his eyes, sensing something distinctly genuine. She couldn't be sure, though. She couldn't just stop watching out for herself. In the time since Kelly and Dylan had started dating, she had built up a great deal of resilience.

"I just need some time. It's not going to happen overnight," Brenda said, taking his hand. "I do know that I want to be with you."

They shared a moment of warm silence, as Brenda stepped towards Dylan. She gingerly touched Dylan's chest, starting to unbutton the white cotton shirt he wore under the sport coat now haphazardly hung over a dining room chair.

Dylan's eyes followed her every step of the way. As his shirt fell to the ground, he put his arm on the back of her head and pulled her towards him.

* * *

><p>Brandon and Kelly emerged from the car silently. They approached her door, still trying to figure out what to say to one another. Kelly reached for the key in her clutch, hesitating to go inside.<p>

"Thanks for standing up for Brenda, Kel," Brandon was shifting his weight. "I want to apologize for my dad's behavior. No one should have to see that."

"Please Brandon. You're not the only one with an inappropriate parent. Besides, standing up for Brenda is the least I can do," Kelly said, finally making eye contact with Brandon. "My only concern is that's just the beginning of a bigger conflict."

"I'm just hoping my mom was able to settle him down. There's no way that Brenda is going to stay locked up in her room for two weeks," Brandon said. "That means I'm going to have to deal with the ladder way more than I anticipated."

"What ladder?" Kelly asked, suddenly smiling.

"The ladder that I use to help Brenda sneak out," Brandon laughed. "It's way less cliché than you think."

"So that's how she was able to get to the Bel Age," Kelly grinned in spite of herself. "I guess I have you to blame."

"Yeah, that and the magnetic pull between Dylan and Brenda," Brandon snickered.

"She is so lucky to have a brother like you," Kelly said, starting to open the door. "If I asked Silver to help me escape he would probably roll his eyes and go back to watching The Real World."

"All I know is that if I ever need anything, Brenda is going to owe me big," Brandon replied jokingly.

"Do you want to come in for a second? I think there are probably more hors d'oeuvres if you're hungry," Kelly gazed to him expectantly.

"I really shouldn't. I think I should go pick up Brenda and fill her in on Jim's temper tantrum," Brandon said, knowing that he'd much rather take Kelly up on her offer.

"C'mon. Just one tiny plate," Kelly prodded with a grin.

"Let's take a rain check on that," Brandon said, the feeling of anticipation growing between them.

"I had fun tonight," Kelly said, biting her lip.

"Me too—more than I have had in a long time," Brandon replied, savoring the moment.

"I guess this is goodnight then," Kelly's smile had started to fade.

"Yes, goodnight," Brandon said, still maintaining eye contact with her. Brandon, leaning in towards her, brushed his lips with hers on an impulse. Kelly returned the kiss as Brandon's hand came to rest on her cheek.

Brandon pulled away from what seemed a mutual attachment. "We should do this again sometime." Brandon said as Kelly waited on her stoop, confused as to what just happened.


	27. Parental Control

Hey everyone! So, as you can imagine, this chapter is mainly focused on the relationships of Dylan and Brenda with numerous parental figures - Jim, Jack and Iris will be featured in particular. I am excited about exploring Dylan's relationship with his dad, as that will be an important element of the chapters to come. I hope that I'm not getting too out of character with Jim, Jack or Iris - I want to establish the intricacies of the relationships explored in Season 3 while adding my own twist to it. Let me know how I'm doing.

Another note: You probably realize I'm leaving out a few storylines from Season 3, including Brandon's gambling problem. I don't really plan to include that particular storyline because I have other plans for Brandon - plus, it won't really fit in with the overall theme. I do, however, want to be true to the show, so let me know if you have any suggestions/comments by reviewing. Thanks for reading!

**Disclaimer: I do not own Beverly Hills, 90210 or any of its characters**

As the first grey light of dawn began to seep through her window, Brenda groaned, tossing restlessly to her side. It was too early to even think about getting out of bed, she thought— yet, she knew she wouldn't be able to fall asleep again. She was too preoccupied for that. She tried to ignore the clock beside her, pulling a pillow over her head.

Brandon had waited to fill Brenda in on his and Kelly's encounter with Jim until they were on the way home. He had figured that Dylan didn't need any fuel added to the fire. His rivalry with Jim was not anything new, after all. It was Brenda that needed to know to play it cool.

Brenda had merely listened to Brandon's advice on how to correctly handle the situation, nodding her head when appropriate, not daring to speak her mind. It wasn't like Brenda to hold back, but she had needed time to think. She had dealt with Jim's resentment of Dylan for years and still she didn't know what the best course of action was. She couldn't stop seeing Dylan, nor could she easily stop being a member of the Walsh family.

Long-term solutions aside, how was she supposed to downplay the situation and act like nothing happened? How long could she possibly sit across the dining room table from Jim, ask him to pass the potatoes and ignore the obvious? Of any member of the Walsh family, Brenda was the least likely to shy away from confrontation.

Brenda threw the pillow across the room, sliding her legs to the edge of the bed. She felt overwhelming fatigue, but the desire to sleep had vanished. She trudged into the bathroom, locking the door to Brandon's room and turning on the shower faucet. She let the shower run for a minute as she examined her reflection.

She wore a sour expression. The mascara she had worn last night had left tiny black streak marks around her bloodshot blue eyes. Her pale white skin and disheveled raven hair stood in stark contrast to one another. She leaned on the counter for a minute, sighing. A beauty regime could only do so much to conceal inner anguish.

She stepped into the shower, allowing the warm water run down her back.

* * *

><p>As a particularly intense wave moved towards him, Dylan paddled out to meet the challenge. He pushed himself up, allowing the force of the wave to pull him in, sliding along the unusually glassy surface. Dylan braced his board, allowing one foot to graze the edge. When the crest broke, Dylan was close to the shore, watching for the next set of waves rolling towards him.<p>

On what had turned into a particularly bright and temperate morning, Dylan had opted to make a trip to the beach for the first time in over a week. As the sun just began to rise to full view, he had hopped in his Porsche with a wet suit and surfboard in tow. It had been awhile since he had been able to get away from all the noise and chill out at his favorite oceanside locale in west L.A.

It was in these moments that he found the most solitude. There was no one to bother him, no one to worry about, just his own thoughts and the lapping of waves against the shore.

On any other day, he might have taken Brandon or Brenda with him. He might have even tracked down a few of his old surfing friends. He needed his own kind of zen and some peace and quiet, at least for the moment. This week demanded time in the green room, especially with Iris' approaching arrival.

Iris would fly into LAX in a matter of hours. He could almost laugh at the outrageous coincidence that his mother and Jack would be in the same place at the same time, but the thought of his mom staying nearby only caused chagrin. In many ways, Iris was like Jack. She came and went as she pleased, never sure whether to remain a permanent fixture in Dylan's life.

The only difference seemed to be that Iris' interest in all things counterculture and occult and her easy manor that made her sudden interest in Dylan's life somewhat endearing—to everyone other than him. She had taken to Cindy and to Brenda with little effort. Dylan was a harder sell, mostly because he knew, at the end of every so-called bonding experience, Iris would leave him to his own devices.

Somewhere along the way, that had become perfectly alright with him. Dylan had become his own man with little respect for authority.

Dylan sat on his board cross-legged, his board slightly bobbing as waves broke in the distance. He tried to remember a time where Iris and Jack had been together and his mind drew a blank. His limited memories of his parents involved massive episodes of fighting sandwiched between short ceasefires when Jack was away.

The worst part to Dylan was the fact that his parents could stumble in and out of his life so easily. They had grown accustomed to being in Dylan's life for however long it suited them, to the point where it seemed better if they stayed away from him altogether.

Dylan lapped out again as a soft wave rose gradually from the horizon. As he reached the trough, he leapt up again to balance on the smooth surface of his longboard. Thoughts escaped him as he entered the wave, sliding through an air pocket and purposely jumping off his board into the ocean.

The cool, salty water refreshed him. When he resurfaced, he gathered his surfboard and swam towards the shore. He could have sworn that, on the distant shore, a figure seemed to wait for him.

* * *

><p>After dragging herself out of the shower, Brenda had dressed hastily in high-wasted denim shorts and a black and white striped shirt that was crumpled on the floor. She walked downstairs in desperate need of caffeine, expecting, somehow, what was waiting for her at the kitchen table.<p>

Her father looked like he hadn't slept much. He was still in a bathrobe, which was practically unheard of on a Monday. He stirred his coffee aimlessly, not pausing to greet Brenda when she entered the kitchen. She paused and stared for a minute, not knowing quite what to say.

"Did you sleep?" Jim asked, looking up at Brenda for the first time since she had walked in.

"Not more than a few hours," Brenda replied softly.

"I don't think I've slept at all in two days," Jim said, taking a sip of coffee. "I've had a lot on my mind."

Brenda moved towards the coffee machine, taking a mug from the cabinet and filling it with dark, rich coffee. Knowing what was coming, Brenda took a seat across from Jim at the table.

"Brenda," There was a thick moment of silence, "I know you've been lying. I know your mother has been lying."

Brenda sighed. "It wasn't something I planned on doing, dad. It just happened."

Jim rubbed his eyebrows in frustration. "Regardless, it's been going on for a while. I anticipate that won't stop anytime soon. Quite honestly, Brenda, it's infuriating from my perspective. I set down boundaries and they continuously are crossed."

"How was I supposed to handle this, dad? I mean, it's not like it's been easy to come to you in the past and talk openly about Dylan," Brenda's angst was flowing freely.

Jim paused, looking down. He was obviously becoming livid. "From the moment that boy has walked into the house, it's been nothing but trouble. Dylan has made you think it's okay to lie to me, to sneak around with him, to compete with female friends for his affections—in my book, that's not acceptable."

"Look, Dylan's done some reprehensible things. No one is saying that he's perfect," Brenda said, raising her voice slightly. "I love him and he loves me. Shouldn't that be all that really matters?"

"Brenda, Dylan has hurt you. He has hurt our family. He has hurt our relationship. That should matter," Jim's anger had receded somewhat, but his intensity had grown. "You can't trust him."

"I do trust him, dad," Brenda said earnestly. "Our relationship will never be the same as it was before, but it's still something really beautiful and genuine."

"That's just not good enough, Brenda. You deserve better than someone that, at the end of the day, you can't depend on. Dylan is unpredictable. He's unstable. He has no sense of responsibility," Jim shook his head.

"With all due respect, you don't know Dylan like I do. You've been blinded from the very beginning," Brenda said, standing up. "I need to make my own choices. You're just going to have to accept that I choose to date Dylan."

"I'm sorry, Brenda, but I just can't accept that," Jim had become stiff and his voice was flat. "I think I've warranted a little more respect than that from my own daughter."

"In so many ways, you're a great father. When it comes to allowing me to be my own person and make life decisions, though, it's a constant struggle," Brenda folded her arms. "Next year, I'll be on my own. I need you to be okay with that."

"I understand that you are your own person, Brenda—believe me, I know that more than anyone. The fact that you can't respect my input as your parent and that you haven't accepted it from the beginning is frustrating," Jim's jaw was clenched.

"I do respect your input," Brenda's stare was intense. "I need you to respect my choices. Is that so much to ask?"

"This is one that I can't condone," Jim stood, "I can't punish you, Brenda. You're a young woman and you should learn from your own mistakes. You should know that if you continue to see Dylan, our relationship will be compromised."

"You should never ask me to choose between Dylan and you," Brenda said through clenched teeth.

"I'm asking you to be reasonable, Brenda," Jim said, his voice loud and familiarly irate.

"I'm done with being reasonable. I'm done with continuously facing your wrath for dating who I want to date. As far as I'm concerned, I don't need your approval," Brenda's voice shook.

"That is painfully obvious," Jim's rage was tangible. Brenda threw him a look and reached for her bag, refusing to face him. She rushed out the door, not knowing where to go. She walked down the street, her arms folded.

* * *

><p>The Peach Pit was flooded with the usual breakfast crowd early on Monday morning. As groups of customers flooded in, Nat rushed around the restaurant with his habitual jovial expression. At a booth, Dylan, dressed in a casual t-shirt and surfing shorts, sat across from his father. Two steaming hot cups of coffee filled with the air with a comforting roasted scent.<p>

"I trust your Valentine's Day plans went well," Jack said, glancing from his menu to Dylan. "It sounds like you put together quite a show for Brenda."

"Yeah, well, she deserves a little something after the past few months," Dylan smiled slightly. He felt weird discussing personal details about his love life with his father. "I guess I'm a hopeless romantic at heart."

"If you really want to show her something, you should have really taken her to Paris," Jack said, a mischievous glint in his eye. "I did that with your mother once, you know."

"Iris and you in Paris?" Dylan squinted, trying to picture his flower child of a mother drifting through Paris casually on the arm of a high-powered investor. "That brings some mental images to mind."

"When I met your mother, she told me that she always wanted to go to Paris. So, on our first date I chartered a jet and booked us a room," Jack smiled, looking down into his coffee. "Something to think about."

"So, did you track me down just to exchange stories about Iris over a Peach Pit omelet or did you have something you wanted to talk to me about?" Dylan asked, eager to change the subject.

"The omelet was a definite draw, but I did have one thing I wanted to discuss," Jack raised his eyebrows.

"Shoot," Dylan replied, leaning back in his seat.

"Jim Walsh," Jack leaned in to Dylan.

"What about Jim?" Dylan's voice soured.

"I was wondering what you knew about him and how long he's been managing your money," Jack explained smoothly. "I know that he's Brenda's father, but, other than that, the man's a bit of a mystery."

"Why the sudden interest?" Dylan asked, practicing considerable caution.

"It's just that he's handling your money and I have no idea who he is," Jack replied curtly.

"Well, for starters, he's extremely overprotective of Brenda and somewhat dogmatic," Dylan said, thinking back to a matter of weeks ago. "I trust him, though. I think that's what's important."

"I guess what I don't understand is why, at nineteen, you can't make financial decisions on your own," Jack quipped, shrugging slightly. "It seems to me that Jack may be impeding your financial growth rather than protecting you. Why should he have a say in how you spend money your mother and I intended for you?"

"I don't have any financial growth to speak of," Dylan replied, meeting his father's gaze. "I don't know if, at this point, I really need any."

"Let me put it to you this way. Soon you'll be out of school. Whether you decide to go to college or go into business or whatever it is, you'll probably need money. Do you really want Jim Walsh to have the final say in how your money is spent?"

Dylan was silent for a moment. As he was about to respond, Brandon's entrance caught his attention. Judging from his button-down shirt and jeans, it was evident that he wasn't working. He glanced around the room, meeting Dylan's glance after a moment.

"Dylan, my man," Brandon approached him, "What's going on?"

"I'm good. I don't know if you've met Jack," Dylan said, pointing to his father.

"No, I don't think so. Brandon Walsh," He extended his hand to Jack. "It's a pleasure."

"So, you're the famous Brandon," Jack, handsome and cheerful, said with a grin. "The pleasure's all mine."

"Glad to see that you're in town," Brandon said, turning his attention back to Dylan. "I hate to interrupt, but have you seen Brenda? I was supposed to give her a ride this morning, but she was gone when I woke up."

"No, can't say I have, B," Dylan said with a look of concern. "Have you checked with Donna?"

"I called her and Felice said she was on her way to school and hadn't mentioned giving Brenda a ride," Brandon said. "I guess maybe she found her own way."

"That's not like Bren," Dylan got up from his seat. "I think I should go look for her."

"I wouldn't worry. I think she maybe had a blowout with dad this morning," Brandon said, turning towards Nat.

"Brandon! What are you doing here? It's not your shift, kid," Nat said, patting him on the shoulder.

"Looking for Brenda and possibly a blueberry muffin," Brandon replied with a smile. Dylan, who stood beside Brandon, looked more pensive.

"Coming right up," Nat said, rushing back to the kitchen.

"What kind of blowout, B?" Dylan asked, suddenly pensive.

"You know my dad and Brenda. It's always something," Brandon lied, if only to waive off Dylan's concern. "I'm sure she just needed to cool off."

"I hope you're right," Dylan said, turning back to his now cold coffee and colder conversation.

* * *

><p>The day of school had passed without much fanfare. The only noticeable attribute happened to be Brenda's absence—from classes, from lunch and from the traditional after-school meeting. Dylan found the first excuse to leave, opting to skip his AP literature class to ride around L.A. He hadn't been quite sure what he was looking for, but he knew that he had to do something.<p>

When he finally pulled into his driveway, he felt defeated. His door was unlocked and, for a moment, he had the creeping suspicion that he may have been robbed. That was when he saw it: Brenda huddled on the couch, watching reruns of what seemed to be Knot's Landing.

"Brenda?" Dylan furrowed his eyebrows, tossing his books onto the table.

Brenda, draped in a throw blanket, looked up at him. As she rose from the sofa, she allowed the blanket to fall from her shoulders. Her big blue eyes confronted Dylan's with an intensity that was distinctly Brenda Walsh.

"So, I know you're probably wondering what I'm doing here," Brenda said quietly.

"That's definitely something on the forefront of my mind," Dylan replied, incredulously.

"I just couldn't go to school today - and I couldn't go home. I thought everyone would just assume I was sick or something," Brenda said, shrugging.

"Are you kidding? I've been looking for you for the past hour," Dylan approached Brenda. "Brandon came in the Peach Pit looking for you this morning."

"I had a fight with Jim this morning, so I walked out of the house—I just kept walking. I didn't even think to talk to Brandon. Then I realized I was coming here," Brenda leaned against the couch. "You had already left and I knew where you kept the spare key, so I let myself in. I needed to crash somewhere for the afternoon. I don't even want to talk to Brandon or my mother—let alone my dad."

"Was it that bad?" Dylan drew closer to her.

"It was pretty bad," Brenda bit her lip.

"Want to talk about it?" Dylan asked, already knowing how she would respond.

"I'd rather not," Brenda shook her head, looking down. "That is, if you don't mind."

"That's your call, Bren. Look, it's fine if you want to hide out here," Dylan was close to her now. He reached out and grasped her shoulders. "Next time, call first. I was worried. I didn't know what had happened."

"_You _- worried?" Brenda repeated, smiling in spite of herself.

"Hey, can't a guy worry about his own girlfriend?" Dylan smiled sheepishly.

"Sure. It's just not like you, McKay," Brenda smiled, as Dylan leaned in. She braced herself on the couch, wrapping her arms around his neck. Their lips were almost touching as the doorbell rang.

"C'mon," Dylan groaned.

"You should get that," Brenda said, not budging an inch.

"I _should_," Dylan remained locked in their embrace. He kissed her passionately, placing a hand on her cheek.

A loud, urgent knock sounded on the door. Again, it was met with a groan.

"Coming," Dylan called, pulling away from Brenda reluctantly.

He opened the door to an impatient Iris with two large suitcases beside her.

"Well," Iris smiled, her brown eyes sparkling. "Are you two going to just stand there or are you going to give me a hug?"


	28. Spring Storm

This chapter is based loosely on "Parental Guidance Recommended", where Iris is in town and, at the same time, Jack and Dylan want to dissolve the trust that Jim manages. None of the scenes will be exactly the same because, as you know, it's a different situation, especially because Brenda and Dylan are together and all that jazz. Hope you enjoy and thanks for reading!

**Disclaimer: I do not own Beverly Hills, 90210 or any of its characters.**

Early on a Wednesday morning, Jim Walsh sat in his office staring at the door. In a matter of minutes, he would be face to face with Jack and Dylan McKay. It unnerved him and left him somewhat angry. At the same time, despite all his efforts, he couldn't help but feel some concern for Dylan in this matter.

He had been surprised to receive the phone call from Dylan the day before. At first, he had been tempted to unload the anger he had been holding in about Dylan's involvement with Brenda. Before Jim had an opportunity to say anything, however, Dylan had told Jim that after putting a considerable amount of contemplation in the matter, he wanted to dissolve his trust agreement altogether.

Jim had been practically speechless. For the first time in a long time, he felt sympathy for Dylan. For this morning, he would have to put his personal grievances with Dylan aside to try to do what was right—and he knew that dissolving the trust and giving Jack McKay unlimited access to a trust that should be reserved, at all costs, for Dylan's future was a bad idea and could leave Dylan in a rough place.

It seemed that Jack McKay was the man that Dylan had been warned of for all these years. He was smooth, calculating and would not hesitate to take advantage of a situation. Still, Jim had to wonder: How could he do this to Dylan? How could he willingly put his own son's finances in jeopardy?

Jim massaged his temples as his secretary entered into his office. "Is there anything I can get you before your 9:00?" She asked, noticing his apparent stress.

"Yes, coffee would do nicely," Jim responded curtly. "Thank you, Linda."

Linda returned in just a moment, escorting Jack and Dylan, both dressed in business apparel, in. She set a steaming hot cup of black coffee on his desk and exited, closing the door behind her. Jim took a deep breath as he stood to greet them.

"Jack McKay, I presume," Jim extended his hand, though he already knew the man's face well.

"It's nice to finally meet you, Jim," Jack said with a cool, easy manor. "I've heard so much about you."

"It's good to finally put a face with a name," Jim tried to extend the courtesy, despite his anger concerning the situation. He turned his attention towards Dylan, whose light brown eyes seemed hesitant. "Dylan, it's good to see you."

"Nice to see you too, Jim," he said, his face rigid.

"Please, take a seat," Jim sat on his office chair and, after taking a sip of coffee, leaned closer to a now seated Dylan and Jack. "Dylan told me a little about why you're coming in this morning and I have to say, I'm very concerned about the proposition. As you know, I've been watching over Dylan's finances for almost three years. In my experience, living trusts can have disastrous effects when doled out all at once to a single party. Trust me, I've seen this first hand."

"Jim, I appreciate you looking out for my son, but I have to respectfully disagree," Jack smiled, bracing his hands on his knees. "Dylan is almost a grown man and it seems unnecessary to involve a trustee in the mix. This is money that I earned that Iris set aside for Dylan and now I think it's time that he has the authority to decide what to do with tit."

"I can't stop you from dissolving the trust altogether, but I want to register my concerns, nevertheless," Jim sat up, still hoping to somehow get his point across. "Dylan may be almost 19, but he's nowhere near mature enough to manage this amount of money. I've known Dylan for a very long time and, in some respects, he's very mature – he's had to be. In other respects, he's just a kid. I have a daughter and son his same age and I know what it's like to think that they're suddenly grown up. Honestly, however, they are not adults."

"Maybe they're more adult than you think, Jim," Dylan broke his silence, his voice quiet and raspy.

"There's no reason to bring personal qualms into this matter, Dylan," Jim tried to remain neutral. "This isn't personal—this is about your future."

"What is this if not personal?" Dylan sneered.

"Look, Jim, there's no reason to make this nastier than it has to be. Dylan has made his decision and, as his trustee, it's your responsibility to honor it," Jack raised his eyebrows. "Now that I am back in the picture, a trust agreement seems unnecessary."

"Jack, I have every intention of honoring Dylan's wishes, but, as his father, it's your responsibility to encourage him to do the right thing," Jim cleared his throat, knowing that his advice would not be received well. "Dylan and I have had our rough patches. I'm sure that you've heard a lot about our disagreements. However, Dylan has also been a special part of our family. He's my son's best friend. He's my daughter's boyfriend. My wife and I have enjoyed having Dylan over on the holidays and often have stepped in when he had no one else. We will continue to do so, whether I am his trustee or not. It is in this spirit that I urge you and Dylan to reconsider doing this."

Jack was quiet for a moment. If there was anything that Jim knew about Jack McKay, it was that he was a man who knew when to fight and when to be silent. His bold eyes seem to hold a fair share of secrets—secrets that, surely, Jack would never reveal.

"Jim, again, I appreciate your input, but I'll have to insist on dissolving the trust," Jack maintained eye contact with him. "Dylan and I have talked about this to some length and he feels that it is the best course of action as well."

Jim paused, swallowing hard. His gaze moved to Dylan. He tried to convey his concern in a single glance, "Is that true, Dylan?"

Dylan seemed cautious. He looked down, playing with his hands apprehensively. "Yes," Dylan said quietly, suddenly unsure of himself.

Jim stiffened, pursing his lips. "I'm afraid that there is one additional barrier."

Dylan furrowed his eyebrows and glanced at Jack, who shrugged.

"You must know that it's your mother who set up the trust in the first place," Jim felt as though he had finally caught them in a snag.

"Why should that matter? The money is meant for me and I'm 18," Dylan responded in disbelief.

"Unfortunately, Dylan, it doesn't work that way. Iris would have to approve of anything you decide to do with the trust first," Jim folded his arms, leaning back in his chair.

"If Dylan was able to get the necessary paperwork signed by his mother, then the trust could be dissolved, though?" Jack had kept his calm.

"Yes, technically. However, it would be difficult getting Iris to agree to that, seeing as she is the one who wanted to set up the trust in the first place," Jim put his hands together, his fingertips meeting in the middle.

"I'm sure that she'll agree to if it is what Dylan wants," Jack smiled.

"I'll draft up the paperwork. If Iris decides to sign the disbursement agreement, then the process will proceed. It will probably take two business days to get the necessary paperwork notarized. From there, the money will be distributed to Dylan. Of course, I'll need Dylan's signature on the trust document before you leave."

Dylan looked up and met Jim's gaze one more time.

"Thank you for your time, Jim," Jack oozed confidence, as he stood up. Jim stood up, shaking Jack's hand reluctantly. "It was a pleasure meeting you."

"The pleasure was all mine," Jim replied, his face somber.

Jack exited the room after glancing Dylan's way, leaving Dylan and Jim alone for a brief moment. Jim reached into a file he had on the right side of his desk and sifted through papers.

"You know, Dylan, I meant all that," Jim said, not looking up. "Even if I'm not your trustee anymore, I hope you know that my door is always open."

"I do," Dylan said, his voice still quiet. "I appreciate this."

"Just be careful, son," Jim slid a piece of paper towards him. "I'll need your signature in two places, here and here." Jim indicated two separate spots on the trust document.

Dylan reached for a pen and signed his name, Dylan Michael McKay, in careful cursive on both spots, standing when he was done. He lingered, wanting to say something else, but he couldn't get the words out. Finally, Dylan opened the door and walked out.

* * *

><p>At the kitchen table in the Walsh household, Iris, Brenda and Cindy sat nursing freshly steeped green tea. After a relaxing day of yoga and meditation, the three had returned home, where Iris dedicated herself to filing them in on everything she had learned at her retreat, particularly the benefits of Matcha green tea.<p>

"It's fundamental to Chanoyu, the Japanese tea ceremony," Iris explained, sipping the tea slowly, closing her eyes as she absorbed the flavor and let the hot liquid trickle down her throat. "The trick is to drink it slowly and savor it. If performed correctly, drinking tea can be a distinctly spiritual experience."

Brenda smiled as she sipped her own tea in the manor that Iris described. She knew that Dylan often found little value in his mother's interest in all things spiritual and mystic, but Brenda had always enjoyed Iris' New Age approach to life—at least it was never boring.

"The tea is delicious, Iris," Cindy said, putting the tea down. "Whenever I make tea, it always turns out too strong or too weak."

"It was always difficult for me before I took up meditation. You should really do it more often, Cindy. It's good for the spirit and it's good for the soul," Iris said with a relaxed smile. "It also eases tension."

"Maybe I will. It's just so hard to find a moment of silence around here," Cindy laughed good-naturedly, looking to Brenda.

"You're awfully quiet, Brenda," Iris took another slow sip. "It's not like you."

"I guess I'm just trying to savor properly," Brenda replied with a smile.

"Have I told you how glad I am that you're back with my son?" Iris' face was genuine.

"Only about twenty times," Brenda said with a laugh. "I appreciate your support, Iris. I can't tell you how hard-fought the last few months have been."

"Tell me about it," Cindy chimed in, her blue eyes sparkling. "It's been good to see her smile again."

"That's not to say that we're exactly without our problems," Brenda said, raising one eyebrow.

"Oh, Brenda, let's not start," Cindy pleaded, obviously trying to veer the subject away from Jim.

"Well, it's true," Brenda turned her attention to Iris. "My dad hasn't exactly been accepting of the relationship."

"He does have a dark aura, I fear," Iris looked down, stirring her tea with a spoon. "I hope he hasn't been too disruptive."

"It's just, sometimes I don't know how to deal with the outbursts. I can't stop dating someone just to make him happy, but in some ways I just want this all to end," Brenda said somberly.

"Well, in situations like this there's only one thing we can do," Iris reached in her leather messenger bag for something. "I brought these in case we might need them." Iris set out a deck of cards.

"What are these?" Cindy asked, as Iris picked them up.

"Tarot cards," Iris responded, shuffling the deck. "They can be used to tell one's fortune, if one has the correct experience."

For the first time, Brenda gave Iris a vaguely Dylan-esque skeptical look.

"Don't doubt me now, Brenda," Iris raised her eyebrows. "I have known these to work only when the participant believes in their power."

Brenda nodded her head, still doubtful.

"I will draw three cards from the deck. They represent past, present and future. I will let you know what each card means as we go along," Iris looked first to Cindy.

"Cindy, how about it?" Iris smiled brightly.

"I couldn't possibly," Cindy laughed, sharing her daughter's look of skepticism.

"I guess that means you're first, Brenda," Iris shuffled the deck once again, meeting Brenda's gaze. "Understand that the cards can have many different meanings and, as always, not all is, at first, what it seems."

Iris slowly laid out three cards in front of Brenda. "First," She looked from the cards to Brenda, "The present."

She turned over the card carefully. The card contained an image with a large celestial being and two naked figures, a man and a woman. "The Lovers," Iris grinned knowingly. "This card signifies a divinely blessed union—it signifies that something is meant to be, so to speak. It doesn't apply in just the physical or emotional sense, but in the spiritual sense. Most of all, the Lovers card represents a fulfilling relationship in all senses—a love for the ages."

Iris paused and turned over the leftmost card signifying the past. "The Seven of Cups," Iris said, referring to the card where seven golden cups hung on a cloud. "This signifies a decision or an ultimatum. It can signify a decision involving multiple different choices in which many are tempting, but only one is correct."

"Finally," Iris said, looking down at the last card. "The Future," She flipped over the remaining card. Almost immediately, everyone in the room felt a sense of dread. A knight was sitting on a white horse and holding a black flag. "Death." Iris paused.

"Contrary to belief, this card is not always indicative of death, but of the unknown," Iris, once again, locked eyes with Brenda. "This is an extremely powerful card and, with it, always comes fear. Death is, in a sense, the greatest unknown. This can represent a spiritual death or a physical death. Either way, it demands that one fully embrace its presence."

Brenda looked up to Iris, not believing that her doubt could recede so quickly with so little warning. Surely there wasn't truth in it, but it still filled her with a sense of dismay.

The door opened quickly, without much warning. Jim, fuming, entered, setting his briefcase on the counter.

"Jim," Cindy said, rising to her feet. "You're home early."

"I had no meetings, so I decided to take the rest of the day off," Jim explained, kissing Cindy on the cheek. "After a day like that, I desperately need time to myself."

"Is something going on?" Cindy asked, obviously concerned.

"I had a visit from Dylan and Jack McKay this morning—Dylan informed me that he wants to dissolve the trust," Jim was still irritated. He hadn't even noticed that Brenda and Iris were sitting at the table. "I can't tell you how mad that smug Jack McKay bastard made me. He was talking to me like I was a child."

Iris, obviously startled, stood. "Dylan surely can't mean this. Jack must have put him up to it."

"I honestly don't know anymore, Iris," He turned his attention to her. "But if it's up to me, he can do what he wants. It's not like he's ever shown my opinion much respect before. Besides, it's not like he and his father are that far apart."

"Dad," Brenda's voice called out. "Don't talk about Dylan that way."

"Brenda, please don't get involved in this. I've heard just about enough from everyone involved," Jim stared at Brenda, his eyes stony.

"Hold on, Jim," Iris' protectiveness was suddenly unleashed. "Don't take this out on us. Dylan may have some problems, but underneath all of that, there is a kind, good-hearted boy. You know that as well as I do."

Jim sighed, feeling embarrassed about his behavior. "Iris, you're right. I apologize for overreacting. I just don't know what to do anymore. First, I wanted to get rid of him altogether and now I'm not so sure."

"This is obviously Jack's brainchild. Dylan wouldn't just decide to dissolve the trust on his own," Iris reasoned.

"I thought that Jack might have instigated this. I don't know what Dylan would even do with that much money," Jim sighed. "Look, Iris, I need your commitment here. Dylan and I may have not seen eye-to-eye in the past, but I care about his future. The trust can't be dissolved if you refuse to sign the document."

"We're on the same page, Jim," Iris nodded her head. Jim suddenly seemed far more relaxed. "Just leave me to it. I'll talk to Dylan."

Brenda, still seated, looked back at the cards that remained on the table. Her eyes became fixated on the Death card. She remained skeptical about its meaning, but she suddenly had the sense that change was on its way.

* * *

><p>Hours later, Brenda was still preoccupied. She had tried to get her mind off of that afternoon, but it had been to no avail. She had tried to read <em>The Bell Jar, <em>which Brandon had comically gifted her with, but it only served to depress her. When she had attempted to see if something was on TV, she found her dad on the couch watching a University of Minnesota basketball game. By the time Brandon entered the room, she was lying on her bed and staring at the ceiling.

"See something interesting?" Brandon poked his head into her room. Brenda, who had zoned out, looked up to him with a serious expression.

"I just can't figure out what else to do," Brenda folded her arms as Brandon came in, sitting at the window seat.

"Usually, you're a little more imaginative than this," Brandon joked. Brenda, rising from her former position to sit cross-legged on her bed, put on a fake smile.

"Ha ha, Bran," Brenda examined her brother, who seemed more upbeat than usual.

"Want to talk about it?" Brandon asked, his bright blue eyes shining.

"You're going to think it's silly," Brenda said, smiling in spite of herself.

"That's never stopped you from telling me before," Brandon quipped, grinning.

"Well, Iris came over today. We were having a pretty good time and she was going on and on about Japanese tea ceremonies. Then, she pulled out tarot cards," Brenda explained.

"Uh oh," Brandon interjected. "That doesn't sound good."

"I know they don't mean anything, but one of the cards was Death. It filled me with this really eerie, ominous feeling," Brenda said, knowing that her brother would dismiss her fears.

"Bren, don't tell me you buy into all that stuff," Brandon smirked. "I know you're smarter than that."

"I know that they don't mean anything, but it was weird. About ten seconds after she explained to me what the card was, something happened. Dad stormed into the house talking about how Dylan came to see him about dismantling the trust that dad manages for him," Brenda knew she was sounding ridiculous.

"That's a coincidence if I ever heard one," Brandon said, giving her an incredulous look. "Dylan and Jim haven't exactly been best friends lately. Plus, Dylan's dad is back in the picture."

"I guess you're right," Brenda sighed. "All of this is just weird. It's especially weird that Dylan didn't tell me about anything."

"Dylan's not always going to be an open book," Brandon thought back to all the times that Dylan had been evasive with him. "I'm sure he'll clue you in sooner or later."

"Yeah, hopefully," Brenda said, unsure of herself. "By the way, why do you seem so happy?"

"What, should I look miserable?" Brandon said playfully.

"It's just, judging how the single life has been treating you, you haven't been so cheery lately," Brenda grabbed a pillow and hugged it to her chest.

"Well, let's just say things are looking up," Brandon replied, matter-of-factly. "School's good, work's good and I might even close this year with straight A's."

"Any romances on the horizon?" Brenda asked, smiling mischievously.

"Nuh uh, Bren, you're not getting anything out of me," Brandon stood up, approaching the door. Brenda excitedly followed him.

"So, let me get this straight: there _is _something to get out," Brenda kept smiling and trailed after Brandon as he plopped on his bed.

"Don't twist my words," Brandon sighed. "Okay, there was one thing. _But_," Brandon went on as Brenda smiled expectantly. "I'm not telling you."

"Does it involve Kelly?" Brenda pried. "Did something happen the other night?"

"Brandon, Brenda, it's dinner!" Cindy called from downstairs.

Brandon shrugged, finding the perfect excuse to not respond.

"I'm going to take your silence as a yes," Brenda grinned, heading for the door.

Brandon, rolling his eyes, followed after her, knowing that he could say nothing to convince her otherwise.

* * *

><p>On a night like this, Dylan often liked to sit on his stoop. It was one of those quintessentially California spring evenings, where the rain fell down without ceasing and the lightning lit up the sky in brilliant flashes.<p>

Iris had gone to bed hours ago and had seemed unusually quiet. He hadn't thought much about it then, but it had been rather strange. He would talk to her tomorrow about the trust. His father had warned him that she wouldn't take it well, but it was a risk he had to take—though he wasn't sure why.

The day had taken almost everything out of him. Even though he had told his father after the meeting with Jim that he would convince Iris to sign the document on his own, he wasn't sure if he even wanted to anymore. The purpose of doing it in the first place had been independence and now Jim seemed suspiciously welcoming. It left Dylan uncharacteristically confused.

Maybe he would talk to Brenda about it. He couldn't be sure if it was a good subject to bring up with her at all. She didn't usually side with Jim, but he wouldn't want to put her in an awkward situation either. He couldn't be sure either way.

Behind him, he heard the door open softly. His mother, in a brightly colored robe, sat down next to him, remaining quiet for a moment.

"Did the storm wake you?" Dylan asked, quietly.

"No. I just haven't been able to sleep the last few nights. I've had a lot on my mind," Iris said, glancing to Dylan. "Plus, I couldn't give up an opportunity to watch a storm like this. I don't think I've seen a good one in a while."

"I haven't either," Dylan replied, looking out into the sky. "It should make for some excellent waves tomorrow morning."

"I always did like watching storms with you. I remember when you were little we would go outside together and watch the heat lighting," Iris reminisced, smiling. "They're beautiful in Hawaii. You should come to visit again soon."

"Maybe after graduation," Dylan said, being unfamiliarly friendly. "I should take Brenda."

"I would love that. You know, Brenda is just lovely. She's a lot like her mother," Iris looked at her son. "I think you made the right decision."

"What decision are you referring to?" Dylan raised his eyebrows.

"We were discussing things and your relationship with Kelly came up," Iris responded. "Brenda was reluctant, but I was able to get it out of her."

"Kelly and I seem like ancient history at the moment. It's just that when Brenda went to Paris, for the first time I suddenly felt kind of free to do whatever the hell I wanted to—free from her dad's wrath, free from all the judgment." Dylan explained.

"So, you went after Kelly?" Iris asked, trying to remain neutral.

"We had a flirtation before Brenda moved to California and she was just there. I felt guilty about it constantly, but at the same time, it felt kind of good to not have any responsibility anymore. It wasn't so much about Kelly, I guess," Dylan hadn't thought about this in a while. "It was more about me."

"You always were a free spirit. You're a lot like me in that regard. Brenda balances you out, though. She's full of passion, intensity and strength and you sometimes feel as untethered as an ocean breeze," Iris examined her son's face.

There was the physical aspect. He was bronzed from days spent in the ocean and his eyes were a deep mocha color. His lips were thin and well-shaped. His cheekbones were somewhat sharp and defined.

Iris could see his father in him—the fiery underlying strength coupled with the misplaced aggression towards a situation he couldn't control. She could also see a little of her in him, though it was less noticeable upon first examination. Dylan had a deep capacity for love and, like Iris, sometimes he had a difficult time expressing it.

At long last, she knew it was time to bring up the day's events.

"I had a conversation with Jim Walsh today, you know," She said, changing the subject abruptly.

Dylan looked to her, startled. "What did he tell you?"

"He told me about his meeting with you and your father," Iris explained methodically. "He asked me if I would be willing to sign off on the trust disbursement."

Dylan furrowed his eyebrows, trying to bring together a solid argument, but failing.

"What I want to know is simple. Whose idea was this?" Iris asked, knowing the answer before she asked the question. "If it's Jack's idea, then you should rethink this altogether."

"Why, Iris? So you can have access to the money someday?" Dylan asked angrily.

"Dylan, you know as well as I do that I set the money aside for you," Iris tried to remain calm. "I have no use for the money. Your father, however, does. It's the only money that no one had access to when he was in jail."

"You're lying," Dylan said desperately. "You just want to turn me against him."

"Believe me, Dylan, I am, in some ways, no better than him," Iris put her hand on his shoulder. "Just listen to me: I want to keep that money safe for you. So does Jim Walsh."

"Jim Walsh has no say here," Dylan said, his expression suddenly blank.

"Very well. At the very least, listen to your mother," Iris raised her voice slightly. "You need to think very carefully about this decision. Would you even think to do this if your father hadn't mentioned it? What need do you have for that kind of money?"

"I can't believe this. What right do you have to judge?" Dylan brought himself to his feet. His voice was loud and his eyes narrowed.

"Dylan, don't do this," Iris pleaded with him. "I'm concerned about you and I'm concerned about Jack's intentions."

"Let's be honest, Iris. You've never been too concerned about me before," Dylan gave her one more hostile look before heading into the house and slamming the door behind him.

Iris remained outside, taking a deep breath. She watched as a particularly brilliant, jagged bolt of lightning illuminated the dark night sky.

**I know this chapter was a little heavy and I hope I was able to get the details right. I wasn't quite sure how Tarot Cards worked, but I thought it would be something that fit Iris' personality. Given all the drama that's ensuing at this point in the story, I thought the foreboding that created was appropriate. **

**Also, the whole trust being dissolved thing is unfolding a little differently than it did in the show - I think the fact that Brenda is involved now will add a new dimension to it. I've tried to make Jim a little less angry in this chapter because I want to get the message across that he does care about Dylan - sometimes he can't execute it well.**

**Thanks for reading and review!**


	29. Riders on the Storm

**Disclaimer: I do not own Beverly Hills, 90210 or any of its characters.**

A loud noise followed by laughter caused Dylan to jolt awake. For a moment, he couldn't remember where he was. The room with the single twin bed was unfamiliar to him. It was only when he stopped to think about the previous evening when he remembered it.

When his conversation with Iris ended, he had waited for her door to shut before grabbing the keys to his Porsche and hitting the road. He couldn't be sure where to go. He thought about going to the Walsh's, but he couldn't risk waking up Cindy or Jim. Then he thought about the yacht and found himself in the parking lot of Marina del Rey before giving it a second thought.

His father and Christine were still up and had just returned from a party in Beverly Hills. For a moment, it had occurred to him that this was odd—why would a man that had just gotten out of jail go to a party with old acquaintances? The situation at hand had forced the line of questioning out of his head and, after explaining the situation and his anger at Iris, his father had encouraged him to stay the night. A warm bed and some peace and quiet seemed great at the time—being stuck at home with Iris in the next room made him feel trapped.

He trudged out of bed, glancing in the mirror. He couldn't believe that his hair was still wet from standing in the rain last night. He tried his best to fix himself up, throwing a tank top over his basketball shorts to seem more appropriate. He wandered out to the kitchen, where Jack was on his hands and knees, searching in the cabinet for something.

"We didn't wake you, did we?" Christine giggled. She was at the kitchen table, pouring herself a glass of orange juice. "Jack's been looking for a pan to fry bacon in for ten minutes."

"No, I've been up," Dylan lied, shaking his head, pulling up a chair at the same table. He glanced at Jack, who pulled out a pan. "You cook now?"

"I'm learning," Jack said, smiling. "Christine is teaching me."

"I never thought I'd see the day that Jack made bacon and eggs," Dylan said, smiling in spite of himself.

"Well, maybe you should have a little more faith," Jack responded, putting the pan on the burner.

"You have to admit that this is a little weird," Dylan said, still smiling.

"Maybe a little," Christine winked at Dylan, taking a sip of her juice.

"Did you sleep well?" Jack looked over to Dylan, who was yawning.

"I managed to get a few hours of sleep," Dylan said, leaning back in his chair. "Considering how late I came over, that's not bad."

"I remember being your age. I could exist purely on three hours of sleep and coffee. Those days are gone," Christine had a thoughtful expression. She glanced at her watch, seemingly surprised. "It's already almost 8:30. I should be on my way."

"This early?" Jack asked, giving Christine a playful expression. "I thought you would be around for breakfast."

"You know how my days are, Jack," Christine replied with a smile, picking up her glass of orange juice and moving towards the master bedroom. "Let me know if the house is on fire, Dylan."

"Will do," Dylan responded, looking back towards Jack. Jack had dropped a few slices of bacon in the pan and, by now, had a spatula in hand. "When did you become so domestic?" Dylan asked, obviously amused.

"Domestic is not the word. I still haven't figured out how to make eggs over easy," Jack said, flipping over the bacon in the pan.

"If you've figured out how to make eggs at all, you're ahead of me," Dylan replied, grinning. "I'm happy if I can make myself a grilled cheese without burning the toast."

"I take it that you go over to the Walsh's on most nights," Jack looked over to Dylan.

"That or the Peach Pit. I would probably starve to death if it wasn't for Nat," Dylan grinned. "After a while, even Brenda gave up on teaching me to cook."

"I hope Brenda's better than your mother was in the kitchen. Did I ever tell you about the time she tried to make Thanksgiving dinner?" Jack turned away from the bacon and took a seat next to Dylan.

"Iris made Thanksgiving dinner?" Dylan asked, scoffing. He couldn't picture Iris wearing an apron, let alone preparing food.

"Hard to believe, isn't it? She was pregnant with you at the time. We had probably been married for less than four months," Jack recalled, locking eyes with Dylan. "She had that nesting thing going on. I wasn't around much, but she insisted on me coming home for Thanksgiving. She invited all of her burnout friends from San Francisco and her father. We were all sitting down and almost everything except the turkey was on the table. Turns out she had forgot to turn the oven on at all. We ended up just ordering pizza."

Dylan couldn't help but smile. The thought of Iris trying to explain the uncooked turkey to an entire table of mismatched guests, including his impatient father, was an amusing mental image.

"Speaking of Iris, did you have that conversation we were talking about?" Jack asked, suddenly very interested.

Dylan, who had been dreading the question, paused. "I did."

"And?" Jack asked, anticipation hanging in his bold gray eyes.

"She didn't go for it. We ended up fighting. That's why I came here last night," Dylan responded, defeated. "It ended up getting pretty ugly."

"I told you that she would react that way," Jack sighed, standing up to take the bacon off the burner. "Let me guess: She said some very critical things about me."

"That's to be expected, I guess," Dylan said, looking down.

"Well, we'll just have to try something else," Jack glanced at Dylan, his expression strong and somber. "Tell your mother that I want to have dinner with her as soon as possible."

"You think that Iris is going to agree to go out to dinner with you?" Dylan asked in disbelief. "I'm sure she'd be on board. After all, it would be so cozy." Dylan couldn't help but resort to sarcasm.

"Look, Dylan, this is the only way," Jack folded his arms. "Let me talk some reason into her. I know Iris better than anyone."

"What are you going to say?" Dylan furrowed his eyebrows.

"Some people need a little more convincing than others," Jack said simply, turning around and using a spatula to move the bacon onto a plate. "Just trust me, Dylan."

Jack carried the bacon to the table, placing it in front of Dylan. He gave his father a skeptical look, still not assured. He suddenly had the sense that Jack had less of an idea of what he was doing than Dylan did.

* * *

><p>That morning, Brenda had opted to take a long shower to clear her head. The steam and the hot water always seemed to calm her in the past and it was, at least momentarily, causing the eerie feeling residing in her chest and in her gut to subside. The soundtrack to Dirty Dancing played in the background and Brenda found herself singing along. She had found it under a pile of clothes last night and had been listening to it nonstop for hours.<p>

A series of loud knocks on the bathroom door brought her out of her musical reverie.

"Hey, Jennifer Grey, mind if I use the restroom sometime this morning?" Brandon's impatient voice sounded on the other side of the door.

"Use mom and dad's bathroom," Brenda groaned, reaching out of the shower to turn down the boombox.

"If you don't get out of the shower now, I'm coming in," Brandon warned. "Don't make me do that. That will be a traumatic experience for you and me."

"Get off it, Brandon. I have way more beauty needs than you do," Brenda sighed, turning the faucet to the left and stepping out of the shower. She towel-dried her hair and then wrapped the towel around her body.

"You're underestimating my exfoliating needs," Brandon barged in, relieved when he saw that his sister was already out. "I warned you." Brandon said, shrugging.

Brenda rolled her eyes. "Yeah, yeah, yeah." She stepped out of the room, impatiently closing the door behind her.

Brenda pulled out a black and white shirtdress and a jean jacket from her closet and glanced in the mirror. Her eyes were puffy, but, considering the slim amount of sleep she had gotten the previous night, she looked decent. As she dressed, the volume to her boombox went up. Brandon sang along to the lyrics comically.

"_I had the time of my life and I never felt this way before. I swear this is true—and I owe it all to you_," Brandon bellowed, while the buzzing sound of his electric toothbrush sounded in the background. Brenda laughed, knowing that she had forced Brandon into watching the movie at least ten times.

Something about a movie with Patrick Swayze made everything better for Brenda. Her twin was decidedly less enthusiastic, given the dancing and Patrick Swayze's general disregard for shirts. She made a mental note to rent that movie soon.

Brenda completed dressing and began to apply mascara. Just as she was about to rejoin Brandon in the bathroom to tease him for his singing skills, the door to her bedroom opened. Her father, dressed for work, knocked on the doorframe before he entered.

"Mind if I have a word?" Her father asked sheepishly.

"Step right in," Brenda said, glancing to Jim. She folded her arms, walking to her bed and taking a seat.

"Brenda, I know this have been rough between us for a few weeks," Jim began, slowly approaching Brenda. "First of all, I want to apologize for not trusting your judgment more."

"I think it's a little late for that, dad," Brenda said softly, her eyes steely.

"I understand why you're angry. I haven't made things easy on you for a while. I wanted to let you know, though. I won't challenge your relationship with Dylan any longer," Jim said, exhaling for the first time in a while. "You're a young adult and you're capable of making your own decisions."

"Why now, dad? Why would you suddenly choose to accept Dylan?" Brenda asked in disbelief.

"Dylan is a part of this family. This situation has made me realize that," Jim said, matter-of-factly. "The truth is, Dylan is not perfect. The fact of the matter is, he is a good kid. He's confused and sometimes he makes bad choices—but, deep in his heart, he knows what's right. He loves you and that's all I could ever ask."

Brenda was speechless. She almost didn't know what to say. For so long, she had battled against her father and had gotten nowhere.

"I drove him away. I made him feel unwelcome in this house," Her father began to pace. "I don't want to stand in the way any longer. I want you to be happy, sweetheart."

Brenda's heart beat fast. She couldn't stop thinking about Dylan. "How do I know that you won't change your mind about this? What's to say that in a week you will feel the same way?"

"Have I ever misled you before, Brenda?" Jim asked, raising his eyebrows. Brenda paused. If there was one discerning attribute about Jim it was his consistency. "I'm sure about this. There's no turning back."

She stood up, hugging her father for the first time in a long time. "I love you, dad." Brenda said, almost on the verge of tears. This moment had been hard-fought.

"I love you too, Brenda—more than you can imagine," Jim said, holding his daughter close.

"Can I tell you the truth?" Brenda said, suddenly meek. "I'm worried about him. He didn't tell me about any of this."

Jim nodded his head. "Me too. I've come to understand that all of this is very confusing for Dylan. He's getting a lot of pressure from a father that hasn't been there for him." Jim still had an expression of concern as he pulled away. "We have to leave it in Iris' hands now."

"How can we just sit there and do nothing?" Brenda asked, biting her lip. "There must be something I can do."

Jim grasped her shoulders. "You have to be there for him—that's really all you can do, Brenda."

Brenda locked eyes with her father, nodding her head. As her father exited the room, she collapsed on her bed. She had never felt so helpless before.

* * *

><p>As Brandon twisted the code to open his locker, he yawned, wishing that the day were over already. Four classes out of the way, three more, including AP Spanish, to go. He couldn't imagine sitting through another one of Senora Alvarez's classes—especially one that Steve had, by some sort of dark sorcery, managed to get into.<p>

He stared blankly at the books in his locker—Spanish, English IV and Calculus textbooks stared back at him. Reasoning that he would grab the English IV textbook later, he put the Spanish textbook under his arm and prepared to walk out into the courtyard, where he had agreed to meet Brenda for lunch.

"Hey stranger," He heard a silvery voice from behind him before he had the chance to slam his locker shut. He smiled when he saw Kelly beside him, her cheeks flushed and her smile bright.

"Hey Kel," Brandon said, trying to reduce the amount of awkwardness that hung in the air between them. "What's up?"

"Nothing much—just trying to figure out what to do for lunch," Kelly responded, her big blue eyes focused on Brandon in anticipation.

"Well, you're always welcome to join us," Brandon said softly, smiling at her.

"I might take you up on that," Kelly said, glancing over to Brandon's brown paper bag and holding up her own bag. "As long as you are up for trading."

"Always. A man can only handle PBJ for so long," Brandon joked, stopping at the vending machine and pulling out three quarters from his pocket. "Want anything? I'm buying." He turned to Kelly.

"Diet coke, please," Kelly chirped, leaning against the wall adjacent to the vending machine. Brandon inserted three coins and handed Kelly the soda once it fell out. As their hands touched, Kelly blushed. Their eyes met. Certainly, two people as experienced as Kelly and Brandon shouldn't be nervous, Brandon thought—and yet, inexplicably, his heart was beating fast.

"Hey, Brandon?" Kelly bit her lip.

"Yeah, Kel," He didn't break his gaze.

"What do you say we go on a date—a real date?" Kelly asked softly, her cheeks pink.

"Sounds good," Brandon replied before even thinking about it. "What were you thinking?"

"Uh, I don't know how this works. I've never actually asked a guy on a date," Kelly laughed, putting Brandon more at ease. "What do you think?"

"What about a good old-fashioned dinner and a movie?" Brandon retrieved a regular coke from the vending machine and glanced at Kelly before they began to walk again.

"Sounds good," Kelly grinned, her eyes dancing. "I guess there's only one question: what movie?"

"Now that, Kel, is up to you," Brandon raised his eyebrows and smiled genuinely.

"Brando," Steve's urgent voice broke the moment. "You have to help me with this homework. Alvarez is going to kill me if I don't have this done by 2. I'm barely getting a C as it is."

"Calm down, Steve," Brandon gave Kelly an apologetic look. "We have all lunch period to salvage your grade."

"Thanks, man," Steve said, his face relaxing. "For a minute there, I was freaking out."

"Really?" Brandon opened the door leading to the quad. "I didn't notice."

"Why are you even in AP Spanish, Steve?" Kelly raised her eyebrows. "Isn't there an extra gym class you can take or something?"

"I failed Spanish II, so I need an extra language credit to graduate," Steve replied as Kelly gave him a knowing look.

"At this rate, it's not looking too promising," Kelly replied, as Steve threw her a dirty look.

"I don't see you on any honor rolls," Steve muttered.

"Now, kids, what did I say about arguing in public?" Brandon laughed jovially, approaching his sister.

Brenda was sitting at the base of a tree when the gang arrived. She removed her sunglasses as Brandon, Kelly and Steve chose spots around her.

"I brought some guests," Brandon said, looking towards his twin.

"I see that," Brenda looked to Kelly and Steve, who were still exchanging dirty looks. "Something wrong, guys?"

"Don't ask," Kelly said, rolling her eyes. "Steve's just upset that I call him on his bullshit."

Steve smirked. "Like you have so much room to judge, Kel," Steve flipped open his book, frantically flipping pages.

"Anyway, I'm just ready for senior year to be over," Kelly said, glancing to Brenda. "I can't leave this place soon enough."

"Tell me about it," Brenda said, taking a small bite of her turkey sandwich. "I don't know if I can survive another three months of Gil Meyers' class."

"He is cute, though," Kelly said mischievously.

"Get your mind out of the gutter, Kel," Brenda couldn't help but laugh.

"Who's cute?" Dylan's voice caused the laughing to cease immediately. She looked up at him. He wore jeans and a simple black Nirvana t-shirt.

"Dylan," Brenda's mouth was slightly ajar.

"Who's cute?" Dylan repeated playfully, taking a seat directly next to Brenda.

"Johnny Depp," Kelly blurted out blindly. She hung her head, hating that she still felt uncomfortable whenever Dylan was around.

"Er, Johnny Depp," Brenda repeated, smiling awkwardly.

"Don't listen to them, Dylan. They were talking about 'Gil Meyers'," Steve said, imitating a dreamy tone while saying his name.

"Someone's hot for teacher, huh?" Dylan said, his warm voice smooth and throaty.

"I could take him or leave him," Brenda leaned in, kissing Dylan and feeling an electric jolt ripple through her body as he grasped her cheek. "What's new with you?"

"Oh, you know, the standard," Dylan replied, maintaining eye contact with Brenda. "Jack and I have had some time these past few days to hang out."

"That's great, D," Brandon spoke up, genuinely enthusiastic.

Steve, who hadn't looked up from his textbook since Dylan sat down, finally joined the conversation. "Wow, I had no idea that Jack and you were so close now. Rush and I don't always get along, but you and your dad usually take it to a whole new level."

"Steve," Kelly gave him a warning glance.

Dylan gave Steve an icy gaze, not appreciating his abrupt input. "I don't really remember asking for your opinion."

"I didn't mean it in that way," Steve said, shrugging. He returned to his book, suddenly remembering the panic that had occupied him mere minutes before.

Brenda looked at Dylan, whose face was still tense. "Sorry, man. I guess I'm a little on edge." He said, after a long moment.

"I know how you feel. Midterms can be a real bitch," Kelly said, trying to lighten the mood as she glanced at Brenda. "You've probably studied for everything for weeks."

"What's wrong with being prepared?" Brenda smiled at the taunt. She reached for an apple at the bottom of her purse and took a bite out of it. "I have to finish out with a good GPA."

"Who cares about GPA during the last semester of senior year?" Steve scoffed. "Colleges don't look at that anyway. When you're accepted, you're accepted."

"I'll keep that in mind, Steve," Brenda grinned, sharing her brother's look of amusement.

"Have you decided where you're applying yet?" Kelly asked, taking a bite of the PBJ she had traded for the cold lasagna her mother had insisted she pack this morning.

"I have a short list. Let's see—California University, UCLA, maybe NYU, even though I don't think I can handle harsh winters anymore."

"I couldn't deal. I'm only planning to apply to CU so far. Maybe I'll check out the psychology programs for in-state colleges," Kelly said, realizing she hadn't put much thought into it so far. "What about you, Brandon?"

"I couldn't imagine going anywhere else—L.A. feels like home now. I'll apply to CU and a few safety schools," Brandon responded, making a mental note to get an application soon.

"Are you kidding me, Brando? Why would you even apply anywhere other than CU?" Steve gave Brandon a skeptical look.

"Not everyone has connections at the higher levels, Steve," Brandon threw Steve a knowing look.

Donna and David, just returning from a shift at the radio station, sandwiched themselves between Steve and Kelly. "Did we miss anything?" David asked, looking around from person to person.

"Just talking about schools and applications. You guys have any ideas where you're applying?" Brandon asked as they began eating their lunches.

"I guess I'm thinking about CU if I'm able to finish my senior year alive," David answered, sighing.

Dylan, who had been quiet since his outburst at Steve, suddenly spoke up.

"Hey, I don't mean to interrupt, but I've got to take care of a few things." Dylan said, suddenly springing to his feet. "I'll catch up with you later, Bren." Dylan walked off quickly, not waiting for a response.

"Wait," Brenda got up quickly and jogged to catch up with Dylan. "Where are you going?" The group heard Brenda yell. Suddenly everyone became very quiet.

"Something I said?" David turned to Donna, who merely shrugged.

* * *

><p>Dylan stopped as Brenda finally caught him at the quad. She was out of breath and aggravated at Dylan's sudden departure. At the same time, she couldn't be mad at him—she knew that something had to be wrong.<p>

"Hold on, Dylan. You don't have to go so fast," Brenda caught her breath as she approached him. His back was still turned to her. "Where are you going?"

"It's like I said—I have some things I need to do," He turned around slowly. Brenda could tell that his defenses were up. He was almost certainly in attack mode.

"Are you sure you really have things to do?" Brenda asked, knowing that prodding him was probably a bad choice. "Or did you just feel uncomfortable?"

Dylan sighed, folding his arms. "Bren, you know how I feel about conversations about the future, about college. I needed to get out of there."

"You know, I used to think it was important that you go to college. Now I know that it's not absolutely necessary—you march to the beat of your own drummer, Dylan," Brenda tried to reach out to him. Her voice was soft and thoughtful. "You'll be fine, no matter what you decide to do."

"I just can't get it out of my head that everyone is moving on and I'm staying in the same place," Dylan's defenses were still not entirely down.

"No one's going to leave you, Dylan. You're like a brother to Brandon. Donna loves you. David has worshipped you since freshman year. Steve is a pain in the ass, but when it comes down to it, you'll always be friends. Kelly is still trying to get over all the weirdness, but she still really cares about you—I know that much. As for me, that's pretty self-explanatory," Brenda rubbed her elbow, trying to find a way to open Dylan up. "I'm never leaving you, Dylan."

"You're talking about moving to New York, Brenda," Dylan said softly.

"Dylan, that's a slight possibility. I'm exploring some of my options. Either way, I'm never going to leave you. I love you," Brenda reached out to touch him, placing her hand on his cheek. "You have to know that."

"I know, Bren," Dylan met her gaze and then looked down.

"I'm worried about you," Brenda moved closer to him. "My dad told me about his visit with you and Jack."

"Jim shouldn't have told you any of that," Dylan's anger simmered. "This is between me and him."

"You should've told me, Dylan," Brenda's voice was still quiet. "We need to share things like this."

"Why? You would have told me it was a bad idea just like Jim and Iris," Dylan's eyes were filled with quiet intensity. "Everyone's so worried about me they won't let me make my own damn decisions."

"We just want you to make the right decision," Brenda exhaled for the first time in a while. "It's great that Jack is in your life. I'm happy for you—I really am. You need to reconsider this, though."

"Brenda, this isn't your concern," Dylan said through clenched teeth, anger seething within him. "Please don't get involved."

"Dylan, you're my concern. I'm looking out for you and you can't stop me," Brenda's voice escalated. "Why can't you let me care about you?"

"You call this caring about me?" Dylan looked at her with a dark rage. "My father has just come back and already you're judging him—you're judging me. You have _no _idea what it's like to deal with the things I've dealt with."

"No, Dylan, I don't. I'll never know. All I want to do is help," Brenda was grasping for straws here, but she knew she had to try—if she didn't try, she failed from the start.

"Is that all you want to do?" Dylan repeated, exasperated. "Why are you ruining this for me?"

"You can't blindly trust Jack. Get close to him, spend time with him, do whatever you need to do—but keep your money out of it." Brenda's eyes were full of yearning. "I'm begging you."

"I can't believe you," Dylan's voice was loud and his eyes were guarded and cloudy. "You're just as bad as everyone else." Dylan began to walk away again and Brenda trailed after him, her heart beating fast.

"Don't walk away from me," Brenda's voice rose. "You're acting like a child."

"Leave me alone, Brenda!" Dylan yelled. "I'm done with everyone telling me what to do."

"You can't just leave," Brenda grabbed his shoulder, but he jerked it away.

Dylan turned around and gave her another steely stare. Brenda stopped and watched as he jumped on his Porsche and rode away. As she watched his car blaze off into the distance, she felt tears form in her eyes.

She stood there for a moment, her arms folded. She tried to fight the tears. She suddenly felt an arm on her shoulder.

"Bren," Andrea's voice comforted her, but the sadness remained. "Is everything okay?"

"No," Brenda said, tears running down her cheeks. "I don't know how to help him sometimes. He just—."

"Dylan is difficult to tame. You're bound to have some argument here and there. Don't blame it on yourself," Andrea said, as Brenda slowly turned towards her. "I do know he loves you—everyone knows that."

"I love him too," Brenda sniffed. "Sometimes it just hurts."

"I know the feeling," Andrea smiled. "I know just the thing to cheer you up. Let's have a girl's night—just the four of us, Donna, Kelly, you and I. We'll rent some movies and pig out."

"Yeah," Brenda said, laughing. "That sounds perfect. Just promise me one thing." Brenda began to walk alongside of Andrea. "We have to rent Sixteen Candles."

"You read my mind," Andrea replied eagerly as they approached the rest of the group.

* * *

><p>They sat across the table from each other, neither having an idea how to start the conversation. Iris couldn't believe Dylan had been able to talk her into meeting up with the ex-husband she had avoided seeing for all these years. She had been content not having him in her life. Desperate times, however, called for desperate measures.<p>

He was as tall, suave and shrewd as she remembered him. He was older, though—the hair that had once been a deep chestnut was now entirely gray. The subtle presence of wrinkles had shown up across his sleek, tan face. The gray eyes that had once been full of ambition and cunning, however, had remained that way. She could remember why she fell in love with him, but she couldn't help but chide herself over how naïve she'd been all those years ago.

"Strange, isn't it?" Jack said, taking a sip of his gin and tonic. "Together again, after all these years."

"Strange is a good way to put it," Iris touched the stem of her wine glass. "I thought Dylan would join us tonight."

"You know Dylan," Jack leaned forward. "Sometimes he shows up, sometimes, more often than not, he doesn't."

"Like father, like son I suppose," Iris said cautiously, looking into Jack's eyes. "You always were a rogue."

"Oh, come on, Iris," Jack's expression was flirtatious and sly. "Can't we play nice, at least for tonight?"

"I might have agreed to come, but I didn't agree to play into your scheme, Jack," Iris felt stronger than she had when they were married—now she could look into his eyes and tell him exactly how it was.

"What scheme are you referring to? Do tell," Jack's thin smile never budged. Iris couldn't stand the insincerity.

"You know as well as I do that Dylan doesn't need that money. I set it aside for him, not for you to come back to claim years later," Iris folded her arms. "You may not be interested in protecting Dylan, but I am. I don't need to be a friend to him."

"I'm trying to be his father," Jack didn't break their gaze. "Can't I at least do that?"

"Let me get this straight: you come back when he's almost grown and you're interested in being a father to him? You're too much," Iris shook her head. "You came back because you had nowhere else to go."

"You're so cynical," Jack finished his drink. "What's really bothering you is that Dylan is on my side."

"This shouldn't be about sides, Jack. We're his parents and we haven't acted like it. You're still not acting like a father," Iris sighed. "Please, just drop this. Keep Dylan's money where it is and we'll leave it at that."

"I've got a better idea," Jack leaned in further. "I can offer you something in exchange for your cooperation."

"What are you talking about?" Iris asked, her anger mounting. "You think I'd be willing to sell out our son for a bribe?"

"I'm saying that you need money. You can do anything you want with it—you could buy property in Hawaii or start that yoga school you've always wanted," Jack's voice was soft, but powerful.

"A year ago, a month ago, maybe even a week ago, I probably would have said yes," Iris paused, looking away. "Now, I can't. Too many people are counting on me— Jim and Cindy Walsh, Brenda and, especially, Dylan. I'd like to be a good force in his life and you should want that too."

"Can't you see that's what I'm trying to do, Iris?" Jack spoke, exasperated.

"Jack, it's high time that someone came out and stood up for what's right. I had hoped that you would do that. In fact, it's the least you can do for Dylan. It looks like I'm going to have to make up for your failings."

"This is the last time I'll offer," Jack warned impatiently.

"I don't want Dylan's money and you shouldn't want it either," Iris stood up. "You know, Jack, I really thought you might have changed."

With that, Iris began to walk away.

* * *

><p>Oreos, popcorn, chips and an assortment of chocolate were sprawled across the floor in front of Kelly, Brenda, Donna and Andrea. They sat intently in front of Kelly's living room TV, watching the last scene of Sixteen Candles.<p>

Molly Ringwald and Michael Schoffield gazed at each other over a blazing birthday cake.

"_Happy Birthday, Samantha. Make a wish." _

"_It already came true."_

"Gets me every time," Donna sighed, eating a handful of popcorn.

"Why aren't there any Jake Ryans at our school?" Brenda grinned as the screen faded to black and the credits rolled.

"There are," Andrea chimed in playfully. "They're called Dylan McKay."

"Or Brandon Walsh," Donna smiled, glancing at Kelly.

Brenda groaned. "Are the only cute boys in school the one I'm dating and the one I'm related to?"

"I think David is pretty cute," Donna added softly.

"Now I'm going to be sick," Kelly rolled her eyes, reaching for a cookie. "Next you're going to say Steve is a hunk."

"Eh, not for me," All four girls said in unison.

"Who would have thought we'd be together under the same roof like this again?" Andrea joked, looking to Brenda.

"A few weeks ago, we wouldn't have been. But now, I wouldn't have it any other way," Brenda gave Kelly a smile. "We have to promise to never fight over a guy again, Kel."

"Oh, believe me, those days are done," Kelly giggled. "I'm moving onto better and bigger things."

"With who?" Donna asked, suddenly curious.

"I can't say," Kelly couldn't hide her smile, but with Andrea and Brenda in the room she couldn't very well blurt it out.

"It wouldn't happen to be someone related to Brenda, would it?" Donna asked mischievously.

"Donna," Kelly said in surprise.

"Just asking," She replied sheepishly.

Brenda tried to hide her smile, as Andrea looked increasingly uncomfortable. "Is there anything we can talk about other than guys?"

"Bren, this is a sleepover. Are you kidding?" Kelly asked with a smile.

"I guess I just want to get everything off my mind," Brenda sighed, leaning back on the couch.

"Hey guys," David peaked his head in the room, much to Kelly's dismay.

"David, I told you to stay out of here," Kelly groaned, getting a throw pillow off the couch and throwing it towards the door.

"Kelly," Donna protested.

"Donna, we agreed on this," Kelly held her finger out.

"Fine," Donna said, folding her arms. She mouthed something to David, who proceeded to leave.

"So, what's going on with Dylan anyway?" Kelly asked, unsure if her question was appropriate.

"It's not really about Dylan—it's more about Jack," Brenda sighed. "I don't want to get into it, but it's really a mess. Dylan's relationship with his dad has always been complicated."

"It's really too bad," Andrea replied. "He looked upset."

"Well, that was more me," Brenda looked down into her lap. "I shouldn't get involved."

"Bren, don't worry about it. Knowing you and Dylan, everything will be fine," Kelly reassured.

"I'm not so much worried about me and Dylan—I'm more worried about Dylan's well-being," Brenda, again, tried to get her mind off of it. "Anyway, ladies, I brought Dirty Dancing and Pretty in Pink. You know what that means."

"Don't have to tell me twice," Donna scurried for the VHS, inserting the video and returning to her place.

Brenda felt good to be back with her friends. She felt good being able to talk about her love life with Kelly. Despite the fun, despite the renewed friendship, however, her chest remained tight and her stomach nervous. As the night went on, Brenda couldn't stop thinking. She couldn't control that ominous feeling that had begun the previous day. She couldn't get him out of her head—and the enduring feeling that everything was about to change.

**This was a really long chapter, but I hope I managed to tie up some loose ends. I felt like I had to tie so many loose ends that it might have been boring, but hope you enjoyed, nevertheless. Thanks for reading and please review!**


	30. The Child is Father to the Man

**I spent a lot of time struggling with writing this chapter - it's mostly from Dylan's point of view and I added some dynamics to the Jack/Dylan relationship that weren't in the show. The show portrayed Jack as a generally good guy when he returned in Season 3 - while I understand that he was trying to reform, the fact is Jack wasn't always a good guy. Dylan and Jack have a complicated relationship and I wanted to portray that.**

**Thank you for reading and please review.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own BH90210 or any of its characters.**

He sat up for awhile that night, glancing at the phone and trying to talk himself out of calling her. At times, he would walk over to the receiver and pick up the phone, but every time he convinced himself to put it down. Surely, she wouldn't want to hear from him. She had probably told Brandon about the altercation and that would make for some awkward conversation. There was even a possibility that Jim could answer the phone, which was a risk he couldn't take.

Still, Dylan couldn't leave it like that. He was supposed to be turning over a new leaf in this relationship and treating Brenda well. Instead, at the first sign of trouble, he isolated himself within a cramped cocoon of self-loathing. He sat at the edge of his bed and put his head in his hands.

It was a quiet evening and the only noise in the background was the gentle lapping of waves and the occasional croak of cicadas. It would've been relaxing if he could quiet his own stream of consciousness.

He hadn't talked much to Christine tonight. His father had been at dinner with Iris. He hadn't had much of an appetite and had gone to the small bedroom he occupied at the yacht early, too distracted with the afternoon's events to have a decent time. He sighed. Everything seemed so out of place. For the first time in a long time, his father was back in his life, but at what price?

Defeated, he rose to his feet and picked up the phone that was situated at the small desk in the corner. He dialed a familiar number and felt his heart thump as the long, monotone dial sounded.

"Walsh residence," A wave of relief rushed through him as he heard Brandon's voice on the other end.

"Hey B. I'm glad you picked up," Dylan's heart still thudded.

"Dylan, what's up? Are you okay?" Brandon asked, his concern evident.

"Yeah, everything's fine, Bran. I had a bit of a rough moment, but it's all good," He sighed. "Sorry I caused a scene. I lost my cool."

"It's fine. I'm glad you're okay, though," Brandon replied, his friendly tone wiping away the anticipation. After a pause, Brandon hesitantly addressed the issue. "Everyone's worried about you, man."

"I really got to stop doing things like that," Dylan laughed. "This year has just been crazy."

"I think we've all been a little crazy, to tell the truth," Brandon chuckled. "I guess this is our chance, though—we're still, in the most technical sense, kids."

"I seriously doubt that high school is where the insanity ends." He stuffed one hand into his jean pocket. "Is Bren around?"

"No, she's at Kelly's. She was pretty upset earlier and I guess everyone decided to get together to hang out," Brandon tried to keep the mood light. "One viewing of Dirty Dancing and she should be fine."

"She always did have at thing for that movie—but, in my humble opinion, Patrick Swayze's got nothing on me," Dylan asserted playfully.

"Brenda might have some qualms with that statement," Brandon joked.

"That really hurt, B," Dylan laughed once again, allowing a warm moment of silence to ensue.

"Well, I'll let Bren know you called. I'm sure she's having an interesting night—Brenda, Kelly, Andrea, Donna and Silver."

"I can see it now," Dylan couldn't help but smile. "Thanks Bran. See you tomorrow?" He asked.

"You know it, D. Night."

"Night," Dylan said softly, holding onto the receiver for an extra moment. "Oh, hey, Brandon? Let your sister know I called, okay?"

"Will do," There was a final pause and then the click of the dial tone.

He lied down again, looking back to the ceiling. He took a deep breath, thinking about Brenda again and running through the day in his head.

There was always something, it seemed. If it wasn't Jim, it was Jack—if he was really unlucky, it was Jack and Jim, men with clashing personalities and a mutual distrust. Sometimes it was Dylan himself. Who was he kidding? Most of the time it was him. _God, he hated that. _

He sighed and stood up, stripping down to his boxers and punching the light switch. He thought about Brenda again and the sadness returned—the look on her face when he had turned away broke his heart. He stood in the dark for a moment and groaned, finally submitting to misery. He spent so much time absorbed in self-pity that he had never truly considered the feelings of others, especially Brenda. He finally plopped on the bed, folding his arms behind his head. He stared at the ceiling and let his thoughts run wild.

He always came back to the same place.

* * *

><p><em>He was running so hard that his lungs burned and his legs shook. He didn't know how long he had been on the road, but he couldn't stop—if he stopped, they'd catch him. Who were they, he wondered? He couldn't tell for sure, but the intensity of his heartbeat and the shortness of his breath stopped him from thinking at all. <em>

_The road was long and winding and sometimes it felt like it wouldn't end. And then, suddenly, everything was clear. She was at the end of the path, sitting on the shore looking out to an endless body of water. Her long, silky black hair was blowing in the wind. She was wearing a white dress that he didn't recognize. He kept running, going even faster. He felt as though he would collapse at any moment. His entire body trembled with a strength that was completely foreign to him. When he reached her, he fell in the sand. He grasped towards her desperately. When he reopened his eyes, she was bent over him. She touched his cheek._

_ "Brenda," He was breathless. He examined her face, white as porcelain, and was surprised by her outward serenity. She was inexplicably glowing._

_ "How did you find me?" Her voice was soft. It quieted the frantic pace of Dylan's heartbeat._

_ "I always find you," He reclaimed the strength that had escaped him in the moments before. "You're always at the end of the road."_

_ "Dylan," She said his name gently, her hand stroking his chin, his cheeks and, finally, his lips. She bent towards him in what seemed to be slow motion. _

_ "Dylan," She said again. "Dylan." The voice became louder, deeper, more assertive. The world around him seemed to fade into black._

The room came back to him in a blue fog. He rubbed his eyes and saw his father's figure at the door. They made eye contact as Dylan took a deep breath. It had all seemed so real.

"You okay?" Jack asked, a smile on his face. "Seems like you had a nightmare."

"I guess you could say that," Dylan exhaled, sitting up in bed and rubbing his forehead. He glanced at the clock that read 8:45. _Great, late for first period already._

"Something wrong?" Jack remained in the same spot. He seemed, quite frankly, more curious than concerned. "You seem tense."

"Just woke up late," Dylan said coolly, pulling on his jeans. "I know this is pretty sudden, but I need to get to school." He began to look for his keys.

Jack looked down, casually folding his arms. "I was hoping that maybe we'd spend the day together. I mean, we don't get many of those kinds of days."

"Yeah," Dylan pulled on a t-shirt slowly, trying to work through the raging conflict in his head. "I guess you're right—not like I'm going to get there on time anyway."

"Do you need a note or anything?" Jack's lack of parenting knowhow made Dylan chuckle. Jack smiled sheepishly.

"I'm not typically one for turning in sick notes if you know what I mean," Dylan raised his eyebrows.

"In that case, we'll skip the note and go straight for the ballgame," Jack pulled two tickets out of the pocket of his jacket. "If that's alright with you, I mean."

"You're taking me to an Angels game?" Dylan was taken aback. He remembered watching baseball games with his dad—it was a fond memory in what had been a distinctly morose childhood. It had been painful ever since to go to a game or to watch one on TV. Up until now, he hadn't understood quite why.

Jack shrugged, smirking slightly. "What do you say?"

"Uh, yeah," Dylan nodded, looking his dad in the eyes. "I'd like that."

"How about breakfast?" Jack looked pleased. That was something that legitimately surprised Dylan.

"I know just the place," Dylan grinned, pulling on a grey hoodie and stepping off the yacht.

* * *

><p>Brenda hadn't been able to fall asleep the previous evening. She lied awake for hours on the futon on Kelly's floor, trying to stop thinking about Dylan. She felt ashamed of herself—she was supposed to be angry with him and all she could muster was a familiarly relentless concern. She trudged through the hallways of West Beverly in desperate need a cup of coffee. The day was a giant blur. She didn't see Dylan, but that didn't matter—for now, she needed to clear her head.<p>

By the time she arrived home from school, the only thing she could think about was her bed. She barely opened her eyes to acknowledge her mother, who was sitting on the couch.

"You look positively exhausted," The voice jolted her awake. She saw Iris sitting beside her mother on the couch, nursing a cup of tea.

"Iris," Brenda said numbly. Just when she had decided to push Dylan out of her mind, Dylan came to her.

"Why don't you come sit, Brenda?" Iris gestured to the chair situated to the right of the couch. "I'll get you some tea."

"That's not necessary," Brenda entered the living room, sitting uneasily on the lounge chair.

"Is everything alright, Brenda? You look upset," Cindy furrowed her eyebrows as her daughter sat back in her chair. Brenda's bloodshot eyes fluttered.

"Everything is fine, mom," Brenda responded curtly. "It's been a long day."

"I won't keep you for long," Iris began, softly. "I just wanted to let you that I've decided not to sign the papers."

Brenda looked up. Her eyes widened and her mouth was slightly ajar. "Iris." She said the name, somewhat surprised. She knew that Iris cared deeply about keeping the money safe, but she had doubted that she could really withstand Dylan and Jack's insistence.

"I might have done it if it hadn't have been for last night," Iris sighed, stirring her tea. "Dylan pleaded with me to have dinner with Jack. Let's just say that the man hasn't changed." She rolled her eyes. "It was a difficult decision, I must admit. When I thought about it, though, it became clear to me. Dylan is still so vulnerable—he might think he is an adult, but he still needs guidance. I'm not confident that I can be the one to give it to him."

"Don't underestimate yourself," Cindy put a comforting hand on Iris' shoulder. "Dylan needs his mother."

"I think the last thing Dylan needs right now is a set of inconsistent parents. Let him bond with Jack while he can. Mark my words: when the possibility of money dries up, Jack will leave L.A. for good," Iris looked down to her lap. "I'm leaving tonight."

"I thought your flight wasn't until the end of the week," Brenda protested, feeling as though she needed extra support on the Dylan front. "Don't tell me you're leaving now."

"I need to leave after I tell Dylan," Iris leaned forward and touched Brenda's hand. "I want you to know that I appreciate all that you and your family do for Dylan. You have always looked out for him. I hope you will continue to do so."

"Of course," Brenda muttered softly. "I'm just concerned that he won't let me."

"Have faith, Brenda," Iris gave her hand an extra pat and then pulled away. "You have more strength than you know."

"I try to be strong," She said, meekly. "I try to help him. It's just that every time we get close, there's another wall to contend with. He pushes me back and I don't know how to help him after awhile."

Iris shook her head. "Don't you see?" Her eyes were warm. "You help him with your presence, with your words, with your love. You have consistently been there for Dylan. You've loved him when he didn't have a soul in the world to depend on. That means something."

Brenda nodded, leaning forward. "It hurts not knowing what to do for him. I can't just wait. I feel restless."

Iris seemed to understand. She reached into her bag and pulled out something. Brenda sincerely hoped that she wasn't about to pull out the tarot cards. "I want to give you something before I go."

"You don't have to give me anything," Brenda sat up, her shoulders rigid.

"It's just a little something," She held out a clear crystal connected to a thin black wire. "This will allow you to harness your inner strength. It will be with you through the good times and the bad. Treasure it." She set it on Brenda's lap. Brenda picked it up, examining it and, after a moment, put it around her neck.

"I don't know what to say," Brenda looked into Iris' eyes.

"You don't need to say anything," Iris stood up, setting her tea on the table next to her. "I really should be going. Brenda, Cindy, it's been a pleasure." Brenda stood up as Cindy moved to walk Iris out the door.

Brenda remained in her place as Iris poised to exit. She paused and turned back to look at Brenda. "Take care." She smiled slightly.

Brenda nodded as Iris left, absently touching the crystal. She thought about Dylan for the tenth time that day and her heart began to race. She needed to talk to him—she needed to see him. She walked to the phone and picked up the receiver. She dialed the number with newfound determination.

Her heart beat faster as she waited for him to pick up on the other end. It seemed to stop altogether when she reached his voicemail.

"Hey, it's Dylan. You know the drill."

The sound of it made her heart melt. She could hear his voice, but he was still so far away.

"Dylan," She began softly, stopping for a minute. "It's Brenda. I hope everything is okay." She paused again and took a labored breath. "Call me."

She hung up quickly, feeling ridiculous for having left the message at all. She collapsed on the couch with a defeated sigh, wanting to kick herself for even trying.

* * *

><p>The house was cold and dark when he reentered. He hadn't been back for two days. His place seemed less and less like home. He knew it was strange, but he had fallen into a pattern living with his father on the yacht. It was almost like a continuation of his childhood—he didn't know if that was a good thing or a bad thing.<p>

He sighed, feeling conflicted. He needed some time to clear his head. He hadn't realized in the moments before, but he was tired. The afternoon had been fun, but the turmoil he seemed to consistently run into was exhausting.

He walked to his answering machine after noticing the red light was blinking. He smashed his palm against it and leaned against the couch, closing his eyes.

"Hey D, it's Brandon. Just checking in. I'm worried about you, man. Call if you can," Brandon's harried voice sounded on the other end. Dylan smiled, imagining Brandon worrying about him. He felt lucky to have a friend who cared enough to check in on him.

Another beep sounded. Once he heard Brenda's voice, he felt a wave of relief rush through him. As it ended, he was almost ready to grab his keys and head to Casa Walsh. He'd missed her for the last few days. He'd wanted to hear her voice and to see her, touch her.

It seemed to be easier, though, to simply ignore the problem. He couldn't figure out what to say to her. He couldn't shake the feeling that he had to choose between a relationship with his father and a long-term relationship with Brenda. He had already experienced enough ultimatums for a lifetime.

Iris' voice shattered the mood. It caused Dylan to jump, if only slightly. "You should go see her," She was standing behind him, her arms folded, her eyes shimmering knowingly.

"Jesus, Iris. Couldn't you have at least made a noise or something?" Dylan asked, exasperated. He shook his head.

"You always get in these moods," Iris took a seat on the couch, smirking. "You must get it from your father."

"Real nice, Iris," Dylan scoffed. "So tell me. Did you stay for the company or just to spread agony?"

"You act so cold sometimes. You're not being true to yourself in that way, you know," Iris said softly. "I know there's still warmth there."

"I hate it when you analyze me," Dylan's anger was quiet, but was brewing with a familiar intensity. "You're not in a position to judge."

"I don't want to argue with you, Dylan," Iris began. Dylan noticed that Iris had set her suitcases near the front door. "I wanted to let you know that I only want to focus on what's best for you right now."

Dylan remained silent. He braced his elbow on his knees and buried his face in his hands. He looked up at Iris again after a moment. "You can't decide what's best for me. You gave up your right to say that when you walked out on me."

"Your father doesn't have any more right than I do," Iris folded her arms. "When I set aside that money for you, I didn't do it for myself or for Jack. I did it so that you would always be provided for. You must see that."

"Get out," Dylan said with a blank expression.

"Dylan," Iris protested. "Someday you will realize I did this for you—not for me, not for anyone else."

Dylan stood up and looked at his mother with an anger that was swiftly fading into melancholy. "Look, I'm not going to say it again. Please leave."

She stared at him for another moment, looking sincerely disappointed. Her gaze dropped as she picked up her satchel and her suitcases and headed towards the door. Dylan slammed the door when she left. He dropped to the floor and sat on the ground for a moment.

The point wasn't that Dylan wanted the money—the point was that Dylan wanted to, in so many ways, please his father. He didn't want his father to slip away as he had done so many times before. He wanted the relationship that had been denied to him as a child, as a teenager and, most recently, as a young man.

He wanted to please the dark, imposing figure he both loved and loathed. This was his last chance. If Jack left this time, he couldn't be sure what he'd do.

Sighing, Dylan rose to his feet. He had promised he would be back to the yacht for dinner, but had hoped to see Brenda before he went. He now knew he still couldn't yet. He couldn't look at her and address her concerns. Tomorrow would be different, he promised himself. Tomorrow he would face her and be able to look her in the eyes and tell her everything was okay with him.

He walked towards his bedroom and removed a duffel bag from the closet. He threw a pair of jeans into the bag and an oversized flannel shirt. He walked out the door just as the phone began to ring again.

* * *

><p>When he walked in the front door, Jack was waiting for him. He sat at the table with what seemed to be a pint of whisky. Dylan noticed it was mostly empty. A chill went up his spine.<p>

Dylan stopped dead in his tracks. Part of him was repulsed by the sight of the bottle. The other part of him cried out for a drink. Dylan was accustomed to reaching to liquor in times of need or crisis, especially when it came to matters involving his parents. Tonight would have to be different.

"I'm glad you decided to join the celebration," Jack stood up with an amiable, sloppy smile. "I can't believe I have to ask my own son this, but what's your drink?"

Dylan glanced from his father to the bottle, uncomfortable and slightly hurt by his father's irreverence. "You know I don't drink."

"C'mon, Dylan," His father wandered over to a liquor stash that he hadn't noticed. "I assure you that it's all top-shelf."

"I can't believe this," Anger brewed in Dylan's gut. "I thought I could trust you. I thought you cared about me."

"Alright, alright, I understand," Jack's smile still hadn't faded. "Take a seat and I'll get you a root beer or something." His words were slurred and his eyes, usually so full of life, were glazed over.

"I'm good," Dylan folded his arms. He remained standing, wondering why he had even bothered to come over. All the disappointment that he felt his father was finally trying to make up for came rushing back.

"Listen, Dylan, I was only trying to have some fun," Jack said, as he poured himself another drink. Dylan watched the golden liquid swirl in the glass and bit his tongue. He winced at the pain. "Don't take it to heart."

"I feel stupid for actually believing you changed, Jack. I thought, for once in my life, you might actually be honest. I guess not," Dylan felt a pang of melancholy rising. "In case you're wondering, Iris said no."

Jack looked down at his glass and back at Dylan. "I know."

"I'm beginning to think she might have been right about you. It seems really convenient that you would just waltz into the picture without any incentive," Dylan put a hand on his forehead. "I wanted to trust you so badly. I wanted to believe you were doing the right thing."

"I am," Jack walked over to the sink and poured the liquid out. "I want to be there for you."

"Yeah right," Dylan glared at his father. "You'll disappear soon just like you've disappeared every time."

"I'm not going anywhere," Jack sighed. "I don't care about the money. I do care about my son."

"You say that, but then something like this happens and it makes me wonder if you ever cared at all," Dylan rolled his eyes, remaining in his place. He wanted his father to convince him he was wrong more than anything.

"I care. I've always cared. Sometimes I break down, just like you. I see a lot of myself in you, actually—the good and the bad," Jack smiled, wistfully. "I guess what I'm trying to say is I love you."

Dylan nodded. He didn't know how to return the sentiment. He could only say 'I love you' with complete honesty to one person—and it wasn't to either of his parents. "I want to move past this."

"Me too," Some life returned to his father's eyes—but the trustworthiness still wasn't there. Dylan knew his father wanted to be there for him in some ways, but he would never be able to rely on his father completely.

"I hope we can forget this," Jack looked sincere. "I had fun today, save for the meltdown."

"Me too," Dylan said simply, reaching out for his father's embrace. Jack firmly gripped Dylan's back, patting it several times. When Dylan pulled away, he shared another gaze with his father. The gray eyes still had that sparkle in them and the familiar roguishness. There was some good in Jack, Dylan thought, but it was buried deep within him. Regardless, Dylan knew he was the closest to seeing that tiny bit of good than anyone else was.

* * *

><p><em>The road was curvier than he remembered it and the trail was darker. He couldn't see anything that wasn't directly in front of him and, at times, he stumbled over rocks and twigs. Again, he was running. He still couldn't see what was chasing him, but he knew they were closer than ever. The world seemed to come to a standstill and he wasn't getting anywhere. He was running, but the path remained the same.<em>

_ "Dylan," A voice cried out in the distance. He recognized it as his father's. He still didn't stop running. He couldn't stop. He wanted to be away from every semblance of reality. _

_ Another voice called his name—this time he could tell it was Iris. She seemed to be crying, but that didn't matter to him. He couldn't stop now._

_ Dark figures surrounded him. He seemed to be lost on the road now and he cut through tree-lined roads and tred through thorny bushes. He was dirty and covered in blood. When they seemed to be closing in on him, he collapsed. _

_ She appeared like a vision in front of him. She was wearing the same dress and her lips were still stained red. Her raven hair contrasted well with the pale skin and the blue eyes. He was drawn towards her. She extended her arm and he took her hand, staring in disbelief._

_ "Come on," She whispered. "We can run together."_

He woke up gently in complete tranquility. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the bright gray light that filled the room. He could tell that it would probably storm today and those were the days that he liked. The sunshine had its place, but so did the storm.

He dressed for the day, selecting a dark pair of jeans and the flannel shirt that he had stuffed into a bag the previous evening. He examined his reflection and combed his hair. He could only think of Brenda that morning. He knew he was ready to see her now. He knew that everything would be alright.

When he walked into the kitchen, breakfast was waiting at the table. As Dylan began to wolf down an egg and a slice of toast, his father emerged from the mast bedroom. He took the seat adjacent to Dylan.

"I take it I won't be able to talk you into skipping class today?" Jack asked, good-naturedly. His smile suggested that he had already forgotten about the previous evening.

"I've got some things I need to take care of. You know how it is," Dylan replied, softly.

"I suppose you want to see your friends today—and Brenda, of course," Jack smiled again. He took a sip of his cup of coffee.

"I've got two Walshes to make my peace with, if you know what I mean," Dylan returned the smile, taking a final bite of toast.

"I understand," Jack said knowingly. There was so much to say, but neither of them was willing to bring it up. "Listen, I know you need to get going, but can you move the car when you get a chance?"

"No problem," Dylan replied, trying to set aside his irritation. He stood up and grabbed the keys from the table. As he walked out into the parking lot, he couldn't help but run through the previous evening in his head. He was still angry. He still felt betrayed. The only difference is that he could control his temper now.

It had started to drizzle lightly. His hands were slippery as he reached for the car door. He groaned when the keys hit the pavement. As he was reaching down, his father's voice caught his attention.

"Dylan," Jack cried out. "Phone for you."

He looked back at his father with an inquisitive glance. He walked back to the dock, keys in hand.

"It's Brenda," Jack said with a grin.

Dylan nodded slightly and took the receiver from him. In exchange, Dylan handed him the keys. The agitation seemed to dissipate as he put the phone to his ear.

"Bren," His voice was soft. "I'm glad you called."

"I haven't heard from you for a few days," Brenda's concern was evident. "I guess I was just worried."

"I missed you," Dylan smiled. His voice was warm. "Look, Bren. I'm really sorry—about everything. It's been a weird time for me lately."

"I understand. I shouldn't get between you and Jack. You deserve a relationship with your dad—you really do," Brenda said meekly.

Dylan heard the car engine start in the distance. He turned around and watched as his father pulled out of the parking spot.

"Let's put this behind us," Dylan smiled, feeling at ease. "Now, there's nothing I would enjoy more than some one-on-one time with you."

"Oh, would you now?" Brenda quipped playfully.

His train of thought was disrupted by a torrent of fire shooting into the grey morning sky. A deafening roar forced him onto his knees. The receiver broke in half as he fell to the ground.

* * *

><p>It was business as usual at the Walsh house that morning. Brandon, exhausted from cramming the night before, absently ate his bowl of cereal. Jim drank a cup of coffee while watching the traffic report on Channel 7. Cindy put away dishes that were left to dry the night before. Brenda, seemingly brooding over something, leaned against the kitchen counter with her arms folded.<p>

"Are you ready to go yet?" Brenda prodded petulantly.

"Will you at least let me finish my breakfast, Bren?" Brandon snapped.

"I would if you didn't take all morning," Brenda rolled her eyes. She took an apple from the counter and began to nibble at it. "Why can't you just grab something and head out like the rest of us?"

"I like to sit and enjoy my meals. Is that such a foreign concept around here?" Brandon defied his sister by taking his time with the next bite. "Why are you in a hurry anyway?"

"I promised Donna I would help her with something before school," Brenda lied. She didn't want to mention Dylan in front of Brandon. That would mean explaining a situation she didn't have a hold on herself.

"Donna can wait, Brenda," Cindy chimed in, putting a hand on her daughter's shoulder. "It's important that you kids eat something in the morning."

"Thank you for siding with reason, madre," Brandon carried his cereal bowl to the sink and planted a kiss on his mother's forehead. He gave his sister a smug look.

"Cindy, get in here. You need to see this," Jim's voice was urgent. Cindy rushed into the living room, with Brenda and Brandon following shortly behind.

A shot of a familiar parking lot with a demolished car and a column of smoke was prominently displayed on the screen. "The Los Angeles Police Department is investigating an explosion that occurred at 8 this morning in the parking lot of the Marina Del Rey yacht club. One casualty has been reported thus far. The cause of the explosion is unconfirmed at this time."

"Dylan," Brenda put one hand to her lips. Without another thought, Brenda rushed towards the kitchen. She yanked Brandon's keys from the table and threw them to him. "We have to go."

Brandon nodded, his blue eyes intense.

Before Cindy or Jim could express any concern or objections, Brandon and Brenda were out the door.

**I know at the beginning some of you wanted to see Jack live, but Jack's death is such a pivotal driving force in Dylan's life. It also represents an opportunity to explore Dylan and Brenda's rekindled relationship. Brenda was far more understanding and supportive than Kelly was after Jack's death, even though Dylan wasn't her boyfriend anymore. I think, had the situation been different, she would have helped him even more. **

**Also, though I do not intend to do a story for Season 9/Season 10 (I didn't watch those seasons, mostly because for B/D fans that's sacrilege and torture) my story assumes that Jack is dead for good. Dylan's progression as a character is so reliant on the fact that his father is dead that it's ridiculous to miraculously reintroduce Jack six seasons after his death... No. Just no.**


	31. The Lost Weekend

Hey everyone. I was feeling particularly inspired tonight and decided to finish the last few paragraphs I kept putting off. This chapter will largely deal with the aftermath of Jack's death and the breakdown that Dylan experiences. Can Brenda help him and will Dylan let her help him? Will Dylan let _anyone_ help him? Read on to find out.

**Disclaimer: I do not own Beverly Hills, 90210 or any of its characters.**

Broken bottles covered the floor. The shower in the bathroom was running and now steam filled the dark, dingy hotel room he found himself in. He sat in the corner of the room drinking from an almost empty bottle of whisky.

He didn't want to remember. He wanted to be in a state of perpetual stupor. He wanted to be as far away from Los Angeles as humanly possible. Baja was the place he always found himself in, time after time.

Usually when he came to Baja, he was able to leave his problems behind. Now, he was incapable of feeling numb. The alcohol served as a thin veil over reality. He thought about Jack—about his face as he glanced back at him from the car. He heard the explosion and could recall how the flames seemed to perennially burn. He was stuck there for what seemed like hours. Seven squadron cars showed up in the parking lot within ten minutes. The yacht club became a fenced-off crime scene.

Dylan couldn't bring himself to go near the car. He couldn't even answer the question "who are you?" when the police repeatedly asked him. He had to be helped to his feet by two particularly muscular officers and, even then, he felt wobbly. He remembered opening his wallet and showing his license before collapsing again on the cold, rough pavement.

After a moment of burying his head in his hands and fighting the urge to scream at the top of his lungs, he knew what he had to. He couldn't stay there. He had to run. He didn't have to think about where he was going. He already knew he couldn't haunt the doors of a dingy pub or a biker bar in L.A. It had to be here, where he could escape anything—even something like this.

He'd imagined it better than this, though, he had to admit. Sitting alone on a stiff, stale mattress in a deserted room was about as low as it could get.

His eyes shut slightly as he leaned against the white wall directly behind him. He had a brief moment of dimness, which seemed almost pleasant. The jolting memory of the column of fire caused his eyes to flutter open abruptly. He panted as he realized his physical exhaustion was no match for the mental anguish.

He looked down at the bottle that his fingers lightly caressed. He grasped it with utter hopelessness and pulled it towards his lips.

"This one's for you, Jack," He stammered, clinking glasses with an imaginary companion in the room. The gold liquid traveled from the lowly depths of the bottom of the bottle and down Dylan's dry throat.

An image of Brenda came to him with little warning. He knew what she would think if she saw him like this. He could practically see the disappointment and heartbreak in her blue eyes. If she were here, she would probably know just what to say.

_But she isn't here_, Dylan mused to himself, finishing the bottle and tossing it aside. Brenda couldn't save him. Only Dylan could save himself—and to save yourself, you needed desire. The thought of doing anything but lying in the room and chugging hard liquor seemed ridiculous at this point.

He pushed himself to the edge of the bed and tried to stand. He fell backward slightly, his legs buckling underneath his weight. He hadn't been drunk in what seemed like years. The Dylan who had denied alcohol mere days before seemed gone for good.

He walked into the bathroom and wiped the fog from the mirror. He examined his face, white and devoid of emotion. His brown eyes lacked any sort of emotion. His strong jaw was clenched from the emotion that was situated deep within his gut. With a start, Dylan realized that he looked just like his father.

A deep, familiar pang rant through his chest. He opened the cabinet under the sink and pulled out another bottle from his stash. He tore the plastic off the cap and opened the bottle, taking a large gulp.

* * *

><p>Brenda sat beside her brother silently as he navigated his car aimlessly along the main roads of L.A. It was dark now, but they had been out for hours, looking in every one of Dylan's probable haunts.<p>

Every once in a while, Brandon would glance over at Brenda, who was drained of all color. She was anxious. She felt sick. He could tell that she wouldn't be able to rest before she found him. Brenda's agitation made the situation more sensitive.

Brandon had to admit, he felt apprehensive too. He wasn't one for worrying, but this situation was different. This was Dylan, his friend—his best friend. Brandon had been happy that everything was finally working out for him and that he seemed to be in a good place. Now, Dylan's world seemed to be imploding and he wasn't sure if he, or Brenda for that matter, could do anything to help him.

They had to try, though. He had to step in for Dylan's sake.

"Where the hell could he be?" Brenda's voice erupted from the silence. "He always disappears like this and it scares me to death."

"We're going to find him, Bren. He can't hide forever," Brandon put a hand on Brenda's shoulder. "I know you're worried. I am too. We just have to keep looking. He'll turn up. He always turns up."

"I wish I could believe that," Brenda said softly. She paused. "I wish we had gotten there sooner."

"There was nothing we could have done," Brandon looked over to Brenda and noticed her eyes were full of tears. "Dylan wouldn't have listened to us even if we had been able to get to him."

"There must have been something I could have said, something I could have done," Brenda folded her arms and shook her head. She was shivering out of fear and nervousness. "I can't stand the thought that he's out there somewhere in pain."

Brandon didn't know how to respond. He could only look forward at the road ahead.

"There is one place we haven't checked," Brenda said softly. "It's the only place he could be."

"What are you talking about, Bren? We've checked everywhere. We've been to the yacht, Dylan's house, the Bel Age, every bar this side of L.A.," A realization dawned upon him before Brenda could say another word. "You're not talking about-?"

"It's the place he goes when all else fails to drown his sorrows," Brenda raised her eyebrows. "Do you have any better ideas?"

"You're not seriously thinking of following him there?" Brandon asked, taking on a very protective tone. "I love Dylan, but we can't just rush off to Mexico."

"Maybe you can't," Brenda looked at her brother intently. "I have to. You know I have to."

"There are definitely a few things you haven't thought out here. Correct me if I'm wrong, but your driving is still pretty terrible—and what car would you take? Another thing: Can you imagine the look on Jim's face when you tell him you're going to Mexico to look for Dylan? He wouldn't let you in a million years," Brandon knew that his advice was falling on deaf ears. When Brenda set her mind to something, it was nearly impossible to convince her otherwise.

"Brandon, we owe Dylan this—we are his friends. No matter what has gone on between Dylan and I, the fact is we're the closest thing to family he has right now," Brenda said, suddenly impassioned. "Who cares what dad thinks? Who cares what anyone thinks? This isn't their battle."

"This isn't your battle either, Bren," Brandon glanced at her, his voice assertive. "You can't run off to help Dylan whenever he's in need. I love Dylan. I want to help him, but he has to contribute a little."

"I can't believe you," Brenda bit her lip. "He just lost his dad, Brandon. Jack is gone forever. That's not something you bounce back from."

Brandon was silent for a moment. He felt guilty. He felt terrible. "I know. I don't want to see you get in the thick of things, though. You can't put yourself out on the line for him every time. That's all I'm trying to say."

"Brandon, this time is different. I need to talk to him. He needs to come back home and be with us. He should be with his family," A tear rolled down Brenda's cheek. "If you're not going, I am. I will find a way."

Brandon's car pulled into the driveway of Casa Walsh. The car idled when Brandon came to a stop. He turned to Brenda once he turned the engine off and tried to express himself as honestly as he could.

"Brenda, please, this isn't the time for theatrics. Even if Dylan is in Baja, what condition are you going to find him in? How are you going to convince him to do anything but sit there and drown in sorrow?" Brandon realized his point wasn't succeeding.

"I may not succeed, but at least I'm willing to try," Brenda opened the car door and slammed it shut. She gave Brandon one last look and walked quickly towards the front door.

Brandon turned off the headlights and sat in the dark for a while. He sighed and folded his arms, realizing that there was no easy choice in this situation. If he didn't go with Brenda, he would regret it. He would feel responsible if something happened to Brenda or to Dylan. If he went with Brenda, he risked bucking the authority of his parents for the unsatisfying reward of finding Dylan passed out in some cantina.

He pulled the keys out of the ignition and opened the car door. He muttered to himself as the pavement crunched under his feet. As he went in, he noticed that Brenda had joined his parents at the dining room table.

Brandon walked into the room hesitantly, making eye contact with his father, whose eyes were bloodshot. Brandon was surprised to see that he looked worried. It was a look uncharacteristic to Jim.

"I called Iris and told her what we knew," Jim looked to Brenda. "She's taking the next plane back to L.A."

Cindy, dressed in her nightgown, shook her head. Her face was pale and, like Brenda's, drained of all color. "I just can't believe he'd run off like this. I wish he had just come to someone—anyone—for help."

"I'm not surprised by any of this," Brandon took a seat. "About Jack, yes. But Dylan? Dylan is the kind of guy who disappears really quickly if something goes wrong."

"Dylan needs our help, Brandon. We can't look down on him because he has a difficult time processing his own father's death," Brenda's eyes were full of rage.

"I've had it up to here with you accusing me of not caring enough about Dylan," Brandon raised his voice. "Can't you see that I'm doing all I can?"

"Are you really doing all that you can do, Bran?" Brenda squinted, obviously agitated. Her nostrils flared. "He's your friend and he would do anything to help you in a crisis."

"Lay off, Bren, I've had it enough of your diatribes for one night," Brandon tensed up. He felt his heart thump in his chest. "Did it ever occur to you that I'm upset about this too?"

"Brandon, Brenda" Jim's voice cut into the noise. His voice was soft and empathic. "This is the time we need to come together, not pull apart—for Dylan's sake."

"I'm surprised by you two," Cindy rose from her chair. "This certainly isn't the way to help Dylan." Cindy's gaze lingered on Brandon.

"I guess the only thing we can do at this point is wait," Jim tapped his fingers against the table. "Dylan has to come home sometime."

"I wouldn't count on it," Brenda sounded slightly defeated. She rose from her chair. "Dylan has a knack for disappearing, after all." She glanced at Brandon and began to walk up the stairs, leaving Jim and Brandon to sit in silence.

Brandon sighed and massaged his temples as Brenda walked back to her room. He exchanged looks with Jim, whose gaze suggested that he felt no more like having a conversation than Brandon did.

Brandon's thoughts shifted to Dylan once again and for a moment he felt angry that Dylan had the ability to affect his life from so far away. Another pang of guilt struck him as the anger faded. How could he be mad at Dylan for running away in the wake of a tragedy of this scale? Running away to Baja was such a quintessential move for Dylan.

Cindy returned from the kitchen with three cups of coffee. Distributing one to Jim and one to Brandon, she took a seat and started to drink as well.

"I wish there was something we could do besides sitting here," Cindy said, her expression pained.

"Yeah, me too," Brandon responded, slightly disheartened. The coffee charred his tongue, but that didn't bother him. He had to admit that Brenda might be right—what if he wasn't doing all he could to help his friend—his good friend—a friend that had suffered unimaginable pain?

Brandon left the cup of coffee and wandered to the kitchen. He picked up the phone book that had been collecting dust on a bookshelf. He flipped the pages, hoping desperately that the book included motels in Mexico. As he found the section that included the northernmost towns on the Baja peninsula, he scanned for the familiar name that both Dylan and Brenda had mentioned before.

He took a deep breath and picked up the receiver, dialing the listed number.

The flickering light outside of his motel room woke Dylan from a short, fitful slumber. His head was heavy and his stomach was churning with the slow, encroaching nausea that alcohol often brought about. He lay in bed for a minute and stared at the ceiling. He almost laughed at the cruel reality he found himself in. At first, he felt the sensation of relief—maybe the insanity had all been a dream. Perhaps he had been asleep all this time, imagining a horrible reality that couldn't possibly exist.

The quick, painful realization caused the relief he felt to evaporate. A sense of extreme dread and pain came over him. He felt lost. He felt empty. The column of fire, the burning carcass that had been Jack's car came back to him suddenly. His chest became tight and his eyes welled up with tears.

_No_, he said to himself. _This is not the time to fall apart._

He had lost the ability to drink what he wanted without physical consequence. The bottles of hard liquor he had consumed without discretion warped his emotions and his physical state alike.

When the phone in his room began to ring, he nearly jumped. He didn't know whether he should pick it up, but at the same time, he was desperate for some kind of contact with the outside world. On the fifth ring, he picked up the flesh-colored phone. He tried to collect himself before he acknowledged the other person on the line.

"Hello?" Dylan answered the phone with some hesitation.

"Dylan," Brandon's urgent tone sounded on the other end. Dylan felt his chest tighten again. "I'm glad I found you."

"Yeah, well, maybe I didn't want to be found," Dylan's words were slurred. He couldn't help it. The only thing he could think to do was find another bottle.

"We're all worried about you," Brandon's tone was desperate. "Are you alright?"

"Alright?" Dylan repeated, somewhat astounded to hear the question come out of Brandon's mouth. "Sure, Brandon, it's a real party over here." He began to sob without restraint.

"Dylan," Brandon's voice sounded yet again. "Dylan, talk to me. If you can't come back, let us come and get you."

"Us? What are you going to load up my good buddies Steve and Kelly and Donna up in Steve's 'vette and cruise over here to save me from myself? Get real, Brandon. I don't need to be saved," Dylan felt intense anger brewing in his gut. "Do me a favor and leave me alone."

"Dylan," Brandon's voice was soft. "This has been really traumatic for you. Let me help—it can be just me. It doesn't have to involve anyone else. I want to bring you back, D." Brandon was pleading with him.

"I'm already gone, Brandon," Dylan hung up the receiver and proceeded to leave it off the hook. He couldn't handle Brandon's sympathy. He couldn't handle anyone's sympathy.

He thought of Brenda for a moment and his pain expanded. What would Brenda think about this? He pushed it out of his mind. Brenda wasn't here. Brenda wasn't his keeper.

He wandered to the bathroom and searched for a bottle that wasn't completely empty. He pilfered a measly amount of vodka from a bottle of Absolut that was on the bottom of the pile that was becoming a permanent fixture on the bathroom floor.

He plopped back onto the bed face first, feeling exhausted. He passed out with the bottle in his hand.

* * *

><p>Brandon rolled over once again, reading the red numbers on the digital clock situated on his end table. The clock read 3:05. He groaned. He had been in bed for four hours now, tossing and turning and thinking about the situation. Defeated, he pushed himself to the edge of the bed and rose to his feet.<p>

He turned on the floor lamp next to his bookcase and allowed his eyes to acclimate to the light. He leaned against the wall, sighing. He knew he wouldn't be able to fall asleep any time soon.

He began scanning the bookcase for a book to read to pass the time. He spotted a red binder with "writing portfolio" hastily scrawled on the side with permanent marker.

As he pulled the binder out of the bookcase, a heap of papers fell to the floor. He glanced at the paper at the top as he picked up the pile. Clearly written were the bold, underlined letters "The Green Room". He groaned once again as he filed the papers back into the binder.

He could remember when he first met Dylan. He remembered his uninviting gaze as he approached him. He remembered the brisk conversation that began their friendship. He almost laughed as he remembered that Dylan had speculated on the origins of his last name. Little did they know that it would ever come to this point, Brandon thought with a bittersweet snicker.

He wandered to the edge of the bed and thought for a moment. Sometimes he could forget how much Dylan meant to him. He was so much different than his other friends in Beverly Hills and right now he needed Brandon's help. He sighed once again, realizing what he had to do.

He opened the door to the bathroom and walked into Brenda's bedroom. It didn't surprise Brandon that she sat upright in bed, thumbing through an old photo album.

She turned to glance at him when he walked in the door. "Brandon," She said, slightly confused.

"Get your things. We're going to Baja," Brandon said curtly, detecting both surprise and appreciation in her expression.

"Brandon," Brenda hopped off her bed and ran after Brandon. "We're going to run off just like that?"

"Isn't this what you wanted?" Brandon furrowed his eyebrows.

"Yeah," Brenda said bashfully. "I just never thought you would agree to it." She paused for a moment, lingering at the door. "Hey, Brandon?" He met her gaze. "Thanks."

Brandon nodded his head. "You were right, Bren. Dylan would do the same thing for me if he were in a position to. We can't just leave him in Baja."

Brenda nodded and, after another moment, turned to wander back into her bedroom. She pulled off her night robe and hastily prepared herself for the trip ahead. Her heart was beating quickly, but she was content knowing that she could do something other than mope and worry about Dylan.

After pulling on a dark skirt and a simple white blouse, she glanced in the mirror. She looked… sleep-deprived. However, at this moment, she couldn't care less. She threw select belongings into a tote bag and grabbed a road map from a long-forgotten drawer. She was ready now.

_Darkness gave way to a dimly-lit bar that was nearly empty. He walked in and methodically took a seat along the chestnut-colored island. A haggard bartender seemed indifferent to his presence. _

"_What are you drinking?" The white-haired bartender inquired, giving him a quick glance._

"_Jack Daniels, straight," Dylan responded blankly. _

"_You're a no-frills kind of guy, huh?" The bartender commented briskly. _

"_You could say that," Dylan said, eagerly taking a sip as the bartender passed him the glass._

"_So, what brings you to a place like this? I mean, you can't be older than 18," The bartender raised his eyebrows._

"_I've been 21 for a long time, if you know what I mean," Dylan looked the bartender in his eyes. They were gray, steely, impossible to read. "Forgive me if I'm wrong, but if my ID says I'm 21, shouldn't you leave me alone?"_

"_In my experience, just because a piece of laminated paper says you're 21 doesn't mean it's true," The bartender leaned against the table now. _

"_What are you doing here?" The voice asked again._

"_Hey, man, would you mind staying the hell out of my business?" Dylan looked up, agitated by the man's presence at this point. When he looked up, his heart skipped a beat. Situated at the bar, his broad, tall father appeared in front of him. The weak, sallow eyes of the bartender transformed into the cool, knowing gray gaze of his father._

"_Jack," He felt almost angry as he said the name. "What the hell are you doing here?"_

_Jack paused. His gray eyes were playful. "You're not going to believe this, but I still don't know what your drink is." _

_Dylan's mouth was ajar. He stumbled to his feet and fell to the floor. He half-crawled, half-sprinted to the door before the scene collapsed around him. _

The frantic knock on the door caused him to wake up abruptly. He looked around the room and rose to his feet slowly, feeling entirely lethargic. He stumbled to the door and looked out of the peephole.

The light hurt his eye. He winced at the pain. The only thing he could make out was a faint figure on the other side. The knock sounded again—this time louder.

"Señor Dylan," A young man who looked to be about 15 called out as he rapped on the door. "Señor, you have a visitor."

"A visitor?" Dylan repeated, in disbelief. He undid the deadlock and unlocked the door. He could tell how disheveled he looked by the vaguely familiar young man's expression.

"She's in the lobby," The boy said, gaging Dylan's response before continuing. "Should I send her in?"

Dylan looked away and back towards the room, where piles of bottles were lying around the room. "This woman that you're speaking of—is she a young petite brunette with blue eyes?" If so, Dylan reasoned, he would simply have to tell the boy to tell her that he wasn't there. He couldn't let her see him like this.

"No," The boy replied. "She's tall, blonde, maybe in her 40's."

Dylan furrowed her eyebrows. "I don't understand."

"What should I tell her?" The boy asked, obviously uncomfortable.

"I'll be out. Just give me a half hour, at the very least," Dylan sighed and closed the door behind him. He trudged into the bedroom and turned on the faucet. As he stepped into the shower, it became painfully obvious that there wasn't enough hot water in the world that could cure his hangover.

He already knew who it had to be. What he didn't know is how she had tracked him here and what she would say. Jack was gone and Dylan was a lost cause. After all, Dylan barely knew the woman. Jack, for that matter, had barely known the woman. Something told him that Christine wasn't there to reminisce about her short-lived marriage.

Dylan's head pounded with a misery he had never known before. Still, the curiosity of the visit kept him going. He couldn't shake the feeling that Christine might have something profound to say—something that would help him out of this trench of self-despair.

* * *

><p>The open road lied ahead of them and the anxiety of the situation had fully set in for Brandon and Brenda. It was still dark outside, but the bright hues of dawn seemed to linger on the horizon.<p>

Brenda rested her head on a pillow that she had wisely remembered to take. She drifted in and out of consciousness, never able to fully rest. She thought about her last trip to Baja and her time with Dylan spent on the beach, in the cantina, in their room. Somehow the weekend that began and ended so badly had been salvaged in her mind over the duration of a year—mostly because it evoked positive memories of Brenda and Dylan at their best, at their happiest.

She sighed as she thought of Jim and the reminiscent situation at hand. She couldn't be sure that Jim would be angry about Brandon and Brenda's excursion, given the situation at hand. The cryptic note that Brenda had hastily written on a napkin would surely make both Jim and Cindy worry, but there were larger matters at hand. Hopefully, her parents would understand in time.

She turned to Brandon, who had his eyes fixed on the road ahead. After a moment, he turned to Brenda and smiled softly.

"Do you think we'll be there soon?" Brenda asked, yawning.

"I hope so," He responded quietly. "I can't help but feel like time is running out. I don't trust Dylan by himself—not in this state."

Brenda felt her chest tighten. Her heart beat a little faster. "Do you think we're doing the right thing?"

"Yes," Brandon responded, without hesitation. "He needs us, Brenda. You were right. Friends help each other out, are there for each other."

"What about mom and dad?" Brenda asked, her voice full of trepidation.

"Mom and dad will understand," Brandon tried to sound like he knew that for a fact. In all honesty, he was scared about it himself.

Silence hung between them and the cool early morning breeze caused Brenda's long hair to whisk in every imaginable direction. Brenda didn't seem to notice or even mind. She remained deep in thought.

"It's going to be okay," Brandon said, even though he isn't quite sure why he felt the need to reassure her.

Brenda merely nodded. She closed her eyes and tried to think of anything other than Dylan alone and drinking himself into oblivion. In the end, however, she knew it was useless. When she drifted into a comfortable state of semi-consciousness, he was always at the other end.

* * *

><p>As Dylan made his way out into the temperate Mexican morning air, he tried, largely to no success, to make himself presentable. The sopping wet hair that was plastered against his forehead, the dark stubble on his chin and the flip-flops torn apart by sand and salt suggested that he might be a vagabond, but, Dylan reasoned, appearance meant little to Christine at this point.<p>

He made his way into the practically empty lobby and into a cantina that hosted drunken stragglers and tourists alike. Dylan sighed, wishing that he could return to his room and drink until he, once again, passed out on the hotel floor. That was something he expected. That was something that he could, on some sad level, feel comfortable with.

Her back was turned to him, but he recognized her instantly. Her business-like attire confused him and, if anything, fed his curiosity all the more.

She stood as he came into her line of vision. Her eyes, which he had never truly examined before, seemed empathetic, almost sad.

"Dylan," She maintained her composure as she motioned for him to take a seat. "It's good to see you again. I was afraid that I would never find you."

Dylan took a seat, slowly, staring at Christine through bloodshot eyes. "You seem to have your methods." He replied curtly.

"Some, I'll admit," Christine admitted, her familiar tone ceasing abruptly. "We have many matters to discuss and not a lot of time."

"What are you talking about?" Dylan scoffed dismissively.

She took a seat and paused before looking back at Dylan. She pulled in her seat and leaned towards him. "My name is Christine Pettit, Dylan. I'm with the FBI."

**I was going to try to tackle the whole conversation with Christine and Brenda and Brandon's arrival in Baja in the same chapter, but that would have been insane. Next chapter the situation in Baja will come to a head.**

**Also, I realize I have been focusing on Dylan and Brenda the most, but I plan to get back to Brandon's storyline soon. Kelly and Brandon might finally be ready to act on their feelings for one another, but Emily Valentine is also coming back into the picture. Thanks for reading and reviewing, as always!**


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